


The Devil's Favour

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: A Lot of Plot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Pandyssia (Dishonored), Plot, Romance, Underwater God AU, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Oh, my Adeline, oohDown in TasmaniaWhere the devil's jaws are far too weakTo tear you awayFeared is the sea devil, lurking in the deep dark. Feared is his religion and his mark. But what is truly known about the creature that rules the ocean and the whales and the tides?There is one man in the world of today that is lucky enough to learn the secrets of the devil. But to learn those secrets, he must learn to play a game that rules a different world altogether - the Empire, run by social sharks, dangerous enough to match the dangers of the sea.





	1. Down in Tasmania

**Author's Note:**

> At last... this is happening. I am actually posting this fic. It was born in December 2017 and well, it's literally my baby now, I guess. I spent countless days writing and editing it. And I really hope you will like it. This is a wild mix of plot, political games, romance and a lot of angst. The fic is finished and will be published with some small interval between the chapter.
> 
> Also a note, Emily is not Corvo's daughter here, but I don't think it's entirely relevant to the plot.
> 
> Idea was inspired by [Alt-J - Adeline](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XwU8H6e8Ts) song.
> 
> A huge thank you to bluebeholder for editing and really just holding my hand through this fic <333
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

“Citizens of Karnaca!”

The loudspeaker screeched and rasped with a loud noise, spreading words across the whole of the bay city, drawing attention of the citizens to the message. Emily flinched at the sound, hearing it particularly well from the loudspeakers just outside the Palace, attached to an upper floor, the sound scratching at her skull unpleasantly.

“Today we mourn our late Empress Jessamine Kaldwin the First, whose funeral is to take place tonight at dusk. Her body will be given up to the sea, cast aflame by our new Empress Emily Kaldwin, the First of Her name. Join us in celebrating life and death of our fair ruler, whose memory will live on in our hearts.”

The speaker’s solemn voice faded, followed by yet another screech, and the buzz of the city returned to its normal self, with distant ship hoots and city carriage screeches and conversations of the citizens and whirr of the windmills. Emily sighed and relished the silence of her mother’s room for a moment, until it became tense and tangible again.

It had been only a few days since Jessamine’s passing, and her absence made the quiet of the Palace, still so unfamiliar from home, near unbearable. Emily’s mother’s soft laughter evaporated and slowly left her own memory, her voice became distant and the sound of her steps, the clink-clank of the heels, became nothing at all. The only relief was that her mother did not die of war and pain but of old age.

Now it was Emily’s own shoes that roamed the halls regally, it was her voice that spoke to people. She was the new Empress and when the stars turned into dusky specks of light in the sky, it was her obligation to light the fire on a massive boat, laid with hydrangeas and her mother’s body hidden within. She would have to remain there standing, watching as the boat disintegrated into ashes and got swallowed by the quiet sea, near motionless and peaceful, as if the sea devil, the Outsider, fell to mournful silence as they watched the late Empress burn and drift away.

In her death Jessamine left Emily entirely alone with the whole of the crumbled Empire at her fingertips. Quite a heritage.

The Empress sighed and leaned forward to the desk, pulling another box closer to herself. Emily was still going through her mother’s possessions and only just moved to the archived documents in one of the trunks.

“Correspondence, newspaper clippings…” Emily muttered, sorting through the stacks piece by piece. They were all entirely irrelevant, war recollections, vague rumours, scandalous gossip and a few random papers on Pandyssian culture and religion. Nothing of proper use anymore, and Emily wasn’t entirely certain going through every bit of her mother’s rule was even necessary. Truly important items had always been stored away in proper boxes, marked, archived. This… was personal.

Emily pushed a lid back on top of a box and moved it out of sight, putting another one in front of her. This was the box she pulled out of one of her mother’s safes and it certainly had an air of personal secrecy. Emily felt a small pang of guilt at her heart as she unlocked the box and pulled the contents out, but the said guilt evaporated and got replaced by dominating curiosity. Her fingers touched a leather-bound journal. A rarity in a modern world where personal thoughts were recorded via special devices rather than put down on paper by hand. But there was sense to it, if her mother was trying to protect secrets, secrets that an Empress would always have.

***

_“15th Day, Month of Harvest._

_...He was a no one with power, fit to change the course of the Empire. But all he knew at the beginning was a fisherman’s shallow meal and a creaky cot, smelling of rotted fish and brine. I wonder if in his austerity he knew the true pleasures of heart and mind, those that were not known to me.”_

It was a fine clear day with barely a cloud in the sky. Corvo squinted as he looked up, the sun bright and blinding, shining warmly upon the land and the sea. Light flickered off the small waves around the boat, where Corvo and Samuel sat, and painted the whole water canvas up to the busy Dunwall docks. The city looked magnificent, rows and rows of houses spreading up to and beyond the Tower where the Empress sat on her throne.

Samuel pushed a lever and the boat rumbled, its engine falling quiet as they reached their destination. Not too far away from the shore, up to where the fish was rich and gullible for their lure. When the engine gave its final sigh, Corvo looked at Samuel with a small smile. His fingers touched a tight ribbon clasp on his wrist and the wrap fell off his hand, revealing a soot-black mark. He looked at it for a moment, and so did Samuel, as it were per their unspoken ritual. For Corvo using his mark for something so trivial as fishing was almost a habit beyond a conscious decision, and even simply having the mark of the sea devil out in the open felt like a good luck charm.

“Today will bring us a good haul, Corvo. I can feel it,” Samuel said, his eyes glancing over the mark. Corvo smiled wider.

He pulled the net from beneath his feet, rough knots damp from the soft drops of rain from yesterday, and tugged it in his lap. Black threads peeked through the green rope that the net was made of, a place where Corvo mended it last night. He really hoped no fish would break it again with its sharp teeth and powerful tails, because no haul meant empty bellies and bitter alcohol for dinner, if they could afford even that. But then, whiskey ran rivers in the city of Dunwall.

While he busied himself with preparing the net, Samuel was smoking up his cheap cigar. When its end glowed with golden fire, Samuel let out a puff of thick smoke. His hands rested on the controls of an old motorboat, polished but battered with time. He never let anyone drive it but Corvo, only his friend here having the privilege. Every now and then Samuel sighed and said that one day Corvo shall have a boat of his own with a fancier engine, perhaps, designed even by Piero Joplin himself. That he would fish the most expensive types and sell them to those uptight nobles. Corvo always laughed soundlessly at that and shook his head. He was a realist and knew well enough that he could never earn enough coin for any motorboat, let alone a fancy one.

Corvo looked at his friend, whose hair was long gone white and whose eyes had become dim with age. He looked sprightly, but old, his face full of kindness and good spirit. Samuel’s thin lips smoked off the cigar again and then, attention drawn away by the hooting of a ship signal, he turned his face.

“Hmm,” Samuel looked somewhere at the distance and Corvo followed his gaze, turning around.

A ship sailed further away, high pipes smoking almost black clouds of steam in the air. It wasn’t a particularly fancy vessel, but there was something about its design that made it unusual. And not only its design - this side of harbour had been long abandoned and given up to the scarce local market. A ship of such a grand scale and of such presence felt like something unusual. And Corvo doubted anyone would bother coming aboard to investigate. Not here.

Even from a distance so large Corvo could see letters lined on the ship, “The Dreadful Wale”. He could also see a small figure on the prolonged deck, leaning on the railing. Soon the figure was joined by another one, the two of them wearing bright red coats, so very unsuitable for sailors, but clearly serving to somehow point out their rank, one that Corvo didn’t know.

“I wonder what they are heading to Dunwall for,” Samuel said thoughtfully, shaking the ash off his cigar. Corvo wondered too, pondering what they could have on board. It didn’t look like a proper fishing vessel or a whaling ship. In fact, for a few days now the whalers had been stalled in the proper docks and reporting something odd going on in the sea, as if the whales had ceased their song. Some younger whalers at contrast admitted as much as having a feeling that the whales were angry and that their song was louder these days. The older folks laughed them off and slapped their napes, pushing them to return to work and stop babbling about what they imagined.

Corvo winced - he could almost feel the imaginary slap. Having sailed on a great many ships, he knew all about the nape slaps, the cruel games over the younger sailors and the type of people that took work on the ships.

He joined the crew of a small fishing vessel at the age of ten. It wasn’t a choice, but a necessity as Corvo remembered it. Vaguely, only scraps of conversations, dim images. There was the shore and games in water and black-black eyes that stared from beneath the sea. And then there was pain and burning in his skin, and a sharp-rounded symbol took place on his hand. He knew it to be a blessing of the sea devil, as he learnt it from the fancy illustrated books about Pandyssia and their god. But he knew not what burden such a blessing gifted him.

He was only ten. His mother screamed upon seeing a freshly inked mark on his hand, his father pursed his lips. Though the Overseers were not a force of oppression, they monitored anyone who followed the Outsider. Bonecharms had to be sold with a permit and any bloody ritual was forbidden.

Corvo, a little boy, would have been scrutinized by the Overseers, and whether out of fear for their own lives or for their son’s, his parents made a decision.

Rough hands guided him away from childhood and a tightly wrapped ribbon over his marked hand was the bargaining chip as his parents brought him to the docks where people gave him funny looks, both curious and cautious.

Common folk generally shied away from the devil’s magicks, while the sailors often braved it. Finding a person with a mark was a rarity, as Corvo understood, and thus sailors took such a person up in their team as a blessing and a good luck charm. Having no tutor, no understanding, Corvo was forced to explore his newly given gift on his own, and later - forced to abuse it.

He still remembered sad black eyes in the murky waters and a whale’s dying song, his death brought upon by Corvo’s marked hand.

“Corvo.”

The net in his hands moved, and Corvo turned to look at Samuel who was tugging at it.

“Focus, Corvo, we need to catch something before the sun is too high. And I think I saw something big and white under our boat, could be a big fish!”

He nodded and returned to his sad gruesome thoughts no more.

***

When the sun rose up high in the heavens, Corvo and Samuel made their way back to their hut, a few good hauls of fish in their possession. Losing no time, Corvo loaded the baskets with the fish and took their creaky old metal wheelbarrow up to the docks where life had been bustling busy.

Merchants, travelers, simple folk filled the streets of the dock market. Endless stalls, stuffed with things of various origins, from small trinkets, claimed to be charms from Pandyssia, to local and exotic food. Corvo barely looked at anything, too used to ignoring the merchants’ calls as he could never afford a single item they offered. His destination lay further down the road where old Griff was selling his own fish haul.

He greeted Corvo with a strong handshake.

“Sharp on the clock as usual, Corvo, and that’s what I like about you. Business likes punctuality.”

Griff smiled a toothy grin, and Corvo returned smiled back meekly. They weren’t friends, Griff’s personality too forward for Corvo’s liking, but they were on good terms as business partners and there was no hostility from either side.

“Have you seen that rust bucket that arrived in the docks in the morning? I’ve never seen such a ship before,” Griff pulled a large tuna from Corvo’s basket and slammed it into the slimy bucket in his stall. “I overheard two guards talking, they said that ship was a smuggling ship. Of course, no one is going to bother checking it, it’s much easier to harass honest merchants than raid ships like that.”

Corvo hid a smile - Griff was far from honest, but a merchant indeed. Griff pulled a small net of hagfish from Corvo’s haul and shook the water excess off, dripping slime and water on the wooden deck he was stationed on.

“And they say there was a sighting of a whale in the waters. White and big, but not like anything we’ve seen before. I say, the sea has been acting up lately. Howling in the wind at nights and the sky doesn’t feel right. Must be something to do with the sea devil, Void curse him. But if such a brat existed, I think we would be on our knees before the sea like those fanatics Pandyssians.”

Griff laughed nastily and pulled away. Corvo couldn’t smile at that, the itch of the mark on his hand all too tangible now. Instead, he looked around thoughtfully, noticing only now just how crowded the place seemed. There were a bit more guards present and quite a few people browsing the stalls. He had never seen the place so lively. Corvo couldn’t even see their little hut down the river, usually so visible, but now hidden from the view by the passers by. Their hut was the only building down by that part of Wrenhaven, and the place was surrounded by enough city junk to make it near inaccessible.

After finishing discarding all the haul to Griff’s baskets, Corvo lingered. With quite a few coins in his pouch now, he strolled down the market, buying supplies and food, and even treating himself to some freshly baked bread from Cecilia’s small shop on the corner.

“I wonder what that ship brought in,” she mused cheerfully, her innocent face lit up with a small smile, directed at Corvo. He took the bread from her hands and stuffed it away in the cart, freeing his hands to talk.

_Smuggling the goods, no doubt. Maybe canned delicacies or expensive clothes for the Tower nobles._

“Perhaps,” she replied dreamily. “I wish I could go and join a ship just like that, but after everything you’ve told me, Corvo, I don’t think I want to. But it’s a nice little dream to entertain when there are no customers around.”

Corvo smiled at her without a reply, dry of opinions, and wished Cecilia a good day, leaving her bakery and the market entirely.

***

The crowd at the market dispersed by dusk. Corvo and Samuel watched people leave the streets, having purchased nothing, whispered away by disgruntled merchants and businessmen who were quite displeased by the lack of proper deals despite so many customers.

Held in Corvo’s hands were some sheets of paper, greased with coal, sketches of fish made in black charcoal on it. Corvo was no artist, but he rather enjoyed sketching and depicting anything from his memory worth depicting.

In the meantime, Corvo and Samuel sparked a conversation about harbour taxes, taxes imposed upon the seashore merchants and the increase in goods trade by the nobility, a conversation which was incited by the odd ship’s presence at the old docks even by such a late hour without any movement.

“Simple folks need only coin flowing, and I couldn’t agree more. What them higher-ups are up to is none of our business,” Samuel said gruffly, looking in the direction of the Tower. Corvo looked at him inquisitively.

_Aren’t you even a little bit curious what this ship brought in? It’s not everyday that the harbour has anything truly interesting, only fishing boats and scavengers._

“Corvo, you’ve been here long enough to know that common citizens learn everything out when disaster lands on their heads. If it was contraband, we’d know as we always do. But nothing really interesting ever happens in Dunwall, so the nobles have to entertain themselves with petty crimes like smuggling Tyvian wine in the city for their balls and parties. Makes them feel active and efficient. And our old harbour couldn’t be more convenient for it.”

Corvo shook his head. “Nothing interesting happens in Dunwall” was quite an understatement in his eyes, and he thought back to a short explosion of a rat plague a few years ago. Surprising, how many people had fallen to it, even more surprising that he and Samuel survived.

Their small hut was barely fit for living as it was.Stood on lowland, buried a little in the sand, with the waves threatening to erase it from existence in one massive gush. Sometimes it nearly happened, and this was where Corvo had to employ his particular skill, the devil’s Mark at work, calming down the raging water, tricking it into stillness. Every usage of power made his hand sting and drained him of energy, but with it came the reward of being alive still and in possession of property.

Samuel patted Corvo’s knee cap with his knuckles in a friendly manner, a usual gesture to make Corvo stand up with him, and together they put out the fire before the hut, preparing the place for the night. They dragged a large sheet of metal which served as a gate close, threw out disposable garbage, made sure the boat was well fixed and prevented from drifting away into the sea.

“I am more concerned about that big white fish we didn’t catch. I’m sure I saw it!” Samuel exclaimed, looking entirely displeased that the said fish didn’t show itself again and showing off his annoyance by tugging a knot too tight on the boat’s hook.

Corvo certainly didn’t see any fish of the kind, but believed Samuel’s words regardless. Perhaps, it was a small whale that swam all too close to the shore. In fact, he was quite certain it was a whale, even despite the sailor’s exclamations that they had abandoned the waters. If they had, then why was Corvo, for the entirety of the evening, hearing a soft buzz and hum that came with the whales? He heard this song so often in the seas, that it wasn’t hard to recognize the mild vibrations.

Samuel huffed at the suggestion and trotted down to the hut, leaving the door open for Corvo.

***

Corvo had always slept sound and well, dreaming of wonderful nothings. But that night he tossed and turned and his pillow turned so unpleasantly damp, that there was no way he could fall asleep again. Something called for him, sang for him. Almost like the whale song but not quite right. He felt it in his bones and in the wind that howled through a small hut window.

Called by it, he wanted to go to the place that had always soothed him. And if it meant having a whole night of no sleep, well, at least he had the beauty of the sky and nature to calm him.

He swung his legs off the bunk and shoved his feet in large boots. Dressed in the ragged clothes that could protect him from weather and ventured outside, avoiding the creaking wooden planks that the hut was paved with. Samuel did not even turn when Corvo opened the front door and, with a smile, slipped out unnoticed.

The night was breathtakingly beautiful. The sky seemed almost black, cloudless. The stars shone down and the moon, hanging high up in the heavens, was a pale disc, mirrored on the sea’s surface. It rippled a little, creating a beautiful walkway that Corvo thought he could try and step on. And rippling through the air, soft and audible, was the whale song. Corvo felt it twisted, strange and new, unlike anything he’d heard aboard the whaling ships, but just as enthralling, if not more so. He wanted to… touch it. Understand it.

The boat’s engine started quietly when he pulled at the necessary levers and took Corvo away from the shore, but not too far. When the distance was far enough, he pulled his boots off and sprawled on the boat’s floor.

Nothing was quite as pleasant as the soothing rush of the waves and the whispers of the wind. Corvo’s gaze traveled from one star to another, constellations drawn in his mind. He didn’t know a single star name, but he didn’t need a name to consider them mesmerizing. They flickered and twinkled, and sometimes one would shoot across the sky and disappear. Corvo wondered why it happened, but could not come up with an idea smart enough.

Suddenly, the boat jerked. Corvo’s body tensed and he carefully sat up, hands gripping on the boat’s edge. It didn’t feel like a rush of waves that would sometimes bother the boat. No, it felt like something moved and quite intentionally, something powerful.

He didn’t want to think it was a whale, but it had to be.

Breathing in, Corvo leaned over to look down.

At first, there was nothing at all. Black-black water, darker than the sky itself. He noticed the stars didn’t reflect, and water seemed gooey. A small wave rushed beside the boat, scaring Corvo into thinking that the boat was about to turn over. There was only one way to deal with it.

He looked at his left hand and clenched it. The mark glowed icy blue, sending a powerful vibe through Corvo’s arm. He let go of the power and hovered his hand over the water surface and then smiled. His fingertips touched the waves, and he caressed it as he would have a lover. Gently, tenderly, even lovingly. If he could speak, he would have called it sweet names.

His fingers played over the water more, when suddenly -- he pulled his hand away, springing backwards. Something white, almost glowing, passed under the water patch, gleaming and so close. It could be no whale, nor hagfish, nor any other fish or animal he knew. Another powerful jerk hit the bottom of the boat and Corvo grabbed onto the sides for steadiness.

But for all he tried to hold on to, the boat shifted and swayed wildly, and with yet another crash to the side it toppled over, hitting Corvo’s head and trapping him in waters. He swished his arms through the waves, gulped out bubbles of oxygen. His hand clenched in a fist, making the mark glow blue and…

He froze, his mouth open and bubbles coming out in the final stream up to water surface. For a brief moment he thought he saw a face, pale, well-featured, a flash of light in Corvo’s eyes. And it sang, it definitely sang, not with its mouth, but its presence. Like a whale, but no whale. And now that Corvo had seen it, the calling charm had dispelled and terrified him.

The vision imprinted itself on Corvo’s eyelids and he could see it for a few seconds more. What kind of sick hallucination could this be?

The enchantment of this hallucination was broken by a snap of pain in Corvo’s ankle. His legs jerked from the underwater seizure as well as acute pain, and his sudden movement caused the image of the ghostly man disappear away into darkness, trails and wisps of light vanishing, leaving Corvo to struggle beneath the overturned boat alone. His lungs had long given up to water, his limbs went cold and unresponsive and then there was nothing but darkness, turning and pulling around him, and then he thought he could feel sand under his cheek. His ears filled with noises, and he realised he was indeed somewhere on the shore, throwing up water and burning on the inside from oxygen deprivation.

“...alone, at night, in the sea! Has your time spent on the ships taught you nothing, boy?” Samuel raged beside Corvo, while he coughed his lungs out with water. His throat croaked and with a last gush from his insides he finally fell back on sand, breathing wildly.

“... are lucky that I had a craving for a smoke and went outside. If you had died…”

Corvo blindly patted his hand on the sand, searching for Samuel, and felt his tight rough grip over his fingers. He shook his hand in a tremble appreciatively and splayed on the ground, unable to move any more.

***

_“...He was like the sea, sometimes wild, sometimes still, as dangerous as nature, but always unaware of it. At times I was in awe before him, daunted by his presence. A look of a simpleton was a lie, there was always power beyond him, power beyond the devil’s mark. But, perhaps, that’s why the devil chose him in the first place. And why I did to him what I had to.”_


	2. Where the devil's jaws are far too weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your warm support on the first chapter for this fic. It truly means so much to me, this fic is a significant step in my writing. I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Another chapter out, now with more intrigue, politics and curious things twisting into a knot. How do you think, will Corvo manage to untie it?
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

_ “19th Day, Month of Harvest. _

_...When I saw him for the first time, I didn’t know I was meeting a man who held the Empire in his hands tighter than I ever did. But his eyes spoke of wisdom I couldn’t know and common simplicity that I have underestimated. Empresses make mistakes, but at what cost? I know I paid too much and I fear I paid too little.” _

“Have you seen anything again last night?” Samuel asked, settling beside Corvo on a creaky bench, made from an old pipe. Corvo shrugged, his gaze glued to a sheet of paper in his hands. A rough sketch made with coalstick looked back at Corvo and Samuel. Black eyes, as black as Corvo could make them with coal and a vague face, almost absent, and yet. Sharpest cheeks and jaw. Beautiful, and yet entirely not human.

Samuel’s rough finger poked at the paper, shaking some coal residue off as he poked and pointed.

“Whoever this was, it was just a vision. Who knows what pictures can a drowning mind conjure. I suggest you move on, Corvo, and focus on what’s real.”

A piece of advice so dry and straight-forward. Corvo scowled a moment and shook his head.

_ It was real. _

“And what does it change? Are you going out to the sea to look for it? And why? Until you set your mind straight and clear, Corvo, I think we should continue doing what we are doing. Fishing. Living our little quiet lives.”

The air felt a little heated with tension, but with some apologetic glances both men slowly let go. And so Corvo set his drawing aside and tried to push the strange vision away. But even so, he knew it wasn’t a vision. He knew he saw someone. After all, why did his Mark flare?

This and the market siege were about the only remarkable things that happened to Corvo. The following few weeks were entirely uninteresting, apart from an absolutely odd looking small vessel, docked in Dunwall for just a few hours and then departed right away.

It was a strange realisation for Corvo that it was to him that odd things happened. That it was he who he nearly died in the murky waters, pushed into them by something odd. To the rest of Dunwall the only entertainment was the persistent gossip about “The Dreadful Wale” (and even that, a shady boat, was not as groundbreaking as it could have been, had it docked at a larger bay), Lady Boyle’s latest fashion scandal and the drop of stocks for whale oil processing companies due to the whales’ suspected disappearance and odd behaviour.

Apart from that, bad weather came to Dunwall. Not at all gradually, plunging the city straight into dark clouds and pouring rains, sheets of it curtaining away the clear view. Streets had gone empty as people kept to the safety and dry comfort of their apartments.

Corvo, on the other hand, as well as Samuel, rejoiced. With such rains, high humidity, fish became stupid, gullible, swimming up to the very surface, eager to catch needed oxygen. And though Corvo and Samuel were mindful to keep the population intact, they could still boost their haul plentifully.

A small window, looking out on the endless sea, showed Corvo his friend by the boat. He had his rain goggles drawn up on messy wet hair and was leaning over the controls. The ropes and chains, holding the boat by the shore, he had scattered aside, and the vessel swayed in a lively manner while Samuel tended to it. Corvo looked at him for a long moment. For so many years Samuel was about the only person he had ever known. A friend, a mentor. Almost a father. He took him in when Corvo stepped down a whaling vessel never to come back. And for what must have been at least two decades the two men shared space in a small hut and what little joys their life could offer. But it was something Corvo cherished. Freedom, the sea and being away from violence and games that happened upon any ships he had served on.

But sometimes he wondered if in freedom he had jailed himself.

A rumble of storm growled, and Corvo closed his eyes. Darkness behind his lids flashed briefly when a lightning bolt struck in the distance. And when he opened his eyes, he saw something disturbing. Something that made his stomach sink. Those were not the Overseers, but they could still be here because of his devilish gift.

A group of men stood next to Samuel and apparently questioned him about something. Not some shabby crowd either, Imperial guards, their uniform dark, buckles shining. Samuel was looking up at them, his brows furrowed. The leader of the guards, a tall lean man, said something, swiping dripping locks of hair back, and Samuel shrugged, jerking his head at the hut.

The door of which flew open mere seconds later.

Corvo tensed up, looking at the men before him, flooding the small interior. Their polished boots looked all too gleaming for a rotting floor, dripping water into the floorboards, and the fabrics of their warm coats had less patches than fabrics inside the hut.

“Pardon our intrusion. We come on behalf of the Empress, who heard the rumours that you are a man who can tame the sea. Do not worry, we are not here to question or disapprove of your choice of faith. It is the Empress’s business here,” said a man, leading the invasion. Unlike most of his peers, he had a noble and kind face, though haughty with position. But what was remarkable, he didn’t look at Corvo like he were dirt on his boot. There was a tinge of admiration and curiosity in his gaze, even if he held it steel cold.

Corvo nodded.

“I’ve heard tales…” the man said but the other one, much older, cut him off.

“We are not here to discuss any tales, Curnow. So hurry up.”

Curnow, who wore captain’s badge, nodded with a frown.

“Corvo, isn’t it? The Empress demands your presence in the Tower.”

And this was where Corvo faltered, feeling numb in legs. What could the Empress want with a man such as himself? Was it the showcase of his Mark’s tricks? Had he done something wrong? It was quite a common occurrence on the ships he’d served on to be blamed for bad fishing or bad weather or quiet whales. Now it could be all three.

“No need to be anxious. Her Majesty has a matter to discuss and believes you are able to help. Please, follow me,” Curnow said and stepped aside, just as his men made way for Corvo. No option to refuse then.

Sand upturned heavily under his feet as he followed the guard squad out of his home. He immediately caught Samuel’s worried gaze and both exchanged small nods. It felt reassuring, but it wasn’t a promise that everything would be fine.

And so Corvo followed them to the Tower, sat in a large black carriage as it drove towards the vast structure. Streets passed by and Corvo watched the scenery change curiously, from the dirty crowded districts to posh, clean avenues where richer people lived. And soon after, the Tower square settled outside in a magnificent landscape. The carriage finally stopped.

“Corvo, while on the grounds, you are to follow our orders. It is not merely your safety we wish to provide, but our Empress’s. Please, let us enter the Tower now, we should not leave the Empress waiting,” Curnow looked at Corvo reassuringly. Corvo pressed lips together dryly in return. 

***

Of all places Corvo thought of visiting, the Tower certainly wasn’t on the list. But now, stepping down the halls, gaining curious, at times disapproving, looks, hearing echoes of a complex mechanism that the political game was, Corvo couldn’t help but feel thrilled. For a moment it reminded him of a ship, what with its structure and people. But this was bigger. And so much more threatening.

Winding steps and stairs, looking straightforward but so numerous in their amount, they led Corvo and the guards up and down to someplace Corvo couldn’t imagine. There must have been war rooms and negotiation rooms and even secret nooks for special meetings.

Curnow and a couple of guards escorting them paused by a set of tall doors, protected with an alarm to the side of it. The Captain reached out and Corvo looked in surprise at his hand, squeezing his shoulder.

“I shall await here. Please, go in.”

And Corvo did.

Never before had Corvo felt so exposed to the world. Standing in the doorway of a small negotiation room with a table fit into it and two men sat on both sides with the Empress at the head of it. Her sharp eyes looked at him curiously and Corvo stared back, perhaps, out of line with such straightforwardness. But no one said a word, no one told him to stop, and so he looked, studying Empress Jessamine’s face from a true living woman rather than cold curves of stone statues and details of the coins he held in pockets.

The doors shut behind Corvo, and the man on the right side of the table dragged a chair away for him to sit down. He had a rough large face but cold eyes that studied Corvo curiously. His coat was of navy colours and cut, which Corvo recognized from the many years of ship service.

“Please sit,” the Empress said softly, and Corvo followed her command, taking the place on the offered chair. All eyes in the room were turned to him now, and Jessamine’s direct address did not ease the burden of his presence. “I am glad you have joined us. Corvo, is it not?”

He nodded.

“I imagine you are curious to know why you have been summoned to the Tower. Before we begin this meeting proper, let me introduce my advisors in this matter, Corvo.”

The man by Corvo’s side turned out to be a former admiral Farley Havelock, retired from service and currently holding a business of civilian as well as trade ships that sail around the Isles and, if admiral’s small anecdote was to be believed, even Pandyssia once or twice. The man sitting in front of them was an Abbey Overseer, his polished mask lying on the desk between his hands. Teague Martin, for such was his name, was called in as a specialist on Pandyssian culture and beliefs which were known to circle around the worship of the Outsider, the heretic sea devil, or god, denied by the Abbey.

“We have heard about you, Corvo, and a lot. You are quite the local legend!” Havelock said warmly, leaning back in his seat. “A man of great skill. In all regards.”

The man tipped his chin a little to indicate Corvo’s exposed mark. He rubbed it and hid under the other palm, too aware of its presence in his skin now.

“We have called you here, Corvo, because we need your help,” Martin’s voice was much more urgent and his eyes had a gleam of hungry curiosity, which Corvo couldn’t quite place. “It’s of utter importance that you keep this a secret. Our city, our Empire, is facing the threat of war.”

Corvo’s brow arched in surprise.

_ While concerned, I don’t understand why I was invited to discuss it. _

“Because we believe you can be useful in our negotiations with Pandyssians,” Havelock took over after a brief pause. “To put it in a nutshell, it is known that a Pandyssian relic has been smuggled into the city. Something holy, something connected to their sea devil. The Pandyssians aren’t happy with this, and neither are we. We don’t know if the relic is truly here, and if it is, then who ordered it to be stolen and where it is kept. Raiding civilians would be unwise and may cause disruption in our intentions for peace. And peace is vital.”

He pulled a piece of paper and pushed it towards Corvo.

“We have received this letter a few days ago. Threats of war and destruction from the Pandyssian leaders. Correspondence with Pandyssia has never been easy, but it is known for a fact that their words are not to be humoured. This is serious.”

Corvo looked up at the two men, looking back at him heavily, and then braved a gaze at Jessamine, who studied him, hands locked in front of her on the desk. Why she said nothing remained a mystery to Corvo.

_ I still don’t understand-- _

Corvo’s speech was disrupted by Jessamine’s raised hand, stopping the men present in their tracks. Havelock gave the Empress a quizzical look, which she ignored cooly.

“Everyone, please leave us for a moment. I will carry on explanations on my own.”

With the scraping of chairs and heavy boot stomping, Havelock and Martin rose from their seats and bowed to the Empress.

“Martin, please wait for me and Corvo in the backroom. You will be needed,” the Empress added, receiving a bow from Martin.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he acknowledged and followed Havelock out of the room, leaving Corvo alone with the Empress.

Corvo turned his gaze down, fidgeting with the hems of his entirely out of place shirt. His vest felt a little too tight and the mark on his hand was seemingly burning. So many questions roamed his mind, but he dared ask none.

“Corvo, please, sit closer.”

He did as was asked.

“May I express my gratitude for your coming here again, Corvo? It means a lot for the Empire and me. You came despite the fear of the Overseer wrath, but I promise you that here in the Tower and beyond it you are under my protection,” the Empress said with a small smile and then sighed. Her eyes looked tired. “This matter with Pandyssia is troubling me, because I fear our attempt for this negotiation will be fruitless. I wish we could search the districts, but this is too much work and simply unacceptable.”

She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“This is not the legacy I wish to leave to my daughter.”

Corvo looked up at Jessamine who for a short moment was no one but a loving worried mother. But even that did not stop him from repeating his question, why in the Void was he brought here?

“I will be straightforward. I want you to join the negotiations as our representative. As an ambassador, perhaps.”

Corvo’s hands faltered midair.

“Let me explain. We are grasping at straws and air here, Corvo. Martin explained to me earlier that Pandyssians are faithful believers to the Outsider, the devil of the sea. Heretics in the Abbey’s eyes, but we have no right to condemn their faith nor will we pursue our citizens for what they do in regards to the Outsider. The Overseers are, of course, zealous, but they are controlled by the branch of my power and the High Overseer appointed. Pandyssia’s almost blind faith gives us a best possible guess is that this relic that was stolen is a powerful artifact. They call it the sacrificial twin-bladed knife, and if Martin’s words are to be trusted, it is the tool that was used to create the sea devil.”

Jessamine’s soft laugh made Corvo feel a little uneasy and he squirmed in his chair. Living all his life with a direct confirmation of the Outsider’s existence hardened him against disbelief. 

_ If you don’t believe in the Outsider, then what makes you think my powers can be of any use to you? _

Jessamine’s eyes rounded and gleamed. There was so much to this woman, that Corvo couldn’t help unwrapping the layers of her personality one by one with driven curiosity.

“I don’t believe in his creation. I believe that he exists beyond time, or, perhaps, he is not a “he” at all, but merely an avatar of the Void. Something vague, not… a person. What Pandyssians tell is a dark and sad tale, but no more than a  _ tale _ . When I say the relic is a powerful artifact, I do not mean any supernatural kind of power, no. It’s a political and societal, religious tool of control. It means a lot to the people of Pandyssia, quite a lot if they are ready to risk a war with the Empire because of its absence. We have nothing to return, the knife is not in our possession unless by some miracle we find it, but, perhaps, you, as the bearer of the mark that they consider holy, could persuade Pandyssian representatives that the war is unnecessary and we can work together to find their lost relic. I want you to be our asset, Corvo. With a promise of a reward, of course.”

Empress’s eyes gazed pleadingly at Corvo. He counted seconds that stretched gooey-like with every moment. What happens if he says no? Retreats back to the shack to live his life on, fishing and enjoying sunsets and sunrises. Or would he be restrained and executed on site for insubordination and heresy? The Empress, though a woman of a kind face, was just another player in her own political game and Corvo wasn’t nearly on her level. And the game she played now had the whole Empire at stake.

He wasn’t a madman, but faced with a desperate Empress he had nothing left to do but agree.

***

Two guards gave Corvo a tentative bow when he stepped out of the room to follow them upstairs. They did not say a single word to him, did not comment, but he could feel the tenseness in their walk and the electricity in the air because he was an unwelcome stranger in the Tower’s interior.

“Corvo!”

A man’s voice called him somewhere behind, and Corvo turned around to see Geoff Curnow hurrying to walk by his side. His hand rose in the air and he gestured at the guards.

“Leave us. I will see Corvo to his rooms myself.”

The guards, looking relieved, nodded and hurried away on their duties. Corvo breathed out a little too - their departure meant he wasn’t a prisoner to be guarded by two men. He watched them disappear behind the corner and only turned back when Curnow’s steady hand squeezed his forearm tightly.

“This way, Corvo,” he let go of him with a slight smile of uncertainty and then gestured for him to follow up another set of stairs. “Pardon my straightforwardness, but I would like to offer a piece of advice. You are free to disregard it, of course, but I ask you to consider it at the very least.”

Corvo arched a curious eyebrow at him. Curnow’s slightly velvety voice emanated a warning, a gentle and a subtle one. Yet not at all threatening.

“The Tower is a place where a Game is always played. You always have to be a bigger shark to win. Those who fail are doomed to a magnificent but painful fall.”

Curnow paused as they reached another flight of stairs and turned into a narrow hall, draped with heavy curtains and decorated with many cupboards of intricately designed china and small paintings, set on small supporting stands.

“You, Corvo, are not a shark. You are a whale, you have power and presence but little influence beyond awe. And many will seek to exploit you. Not directly, of course, the Game demands subtlety and a sharp mind. I will be honest, I do not expect you to be a winner. I only hope that when the predators get a hold of you, you fight back with all your strength, which, as it seems to me, is one of your defining features. Here is your room, Corvo.”

In the doorway of a small chamber that Corvo was assigned, they stood looking at each other. Corvo tried to read his companion’s face, but Curnow remained thoughtful, smiling a little. His face seemed the most sincere of all Corvo had seen in the Tower so far.

“Trust no one, Corvo.”

A muscle of Corvo’s face twitched before he slowly raised his hands to gesture at Geoff.

_ Then why should I trust you? _

“I did not say you should,” he smiled wider, small dimples appearing on his cheeks, and then stepped away from the room’s threshold. “Good night, Corvo. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

***

Unaccustomed to luxury, Corvo was in a mild agony, thrown straight into the cream of it, the infinite beauty and a nest of serpents, hissing and waiting to make a slippery move at any turn. Curnow’s warning echoed in Corvo’s mind consistently when he was made converse with people. There were people whose curiosity surpassed that of a cat when they asked Corvo this or that thing regarding his gift. Some had a hand in the business and to whom the success of this journey was a matter of urgency and security.

“It is, of course, a terrible business, should anything happen beyond our hopes,” said a middle-aged man, keeping Corvo company by a roaring fire. He extended his hand which was shaking a little, and Corvo shook it with strength. “Lord Treavor Pendleton. I am friends with Captain Havelock and he has updated me on the matter in details. I am glad you agreed to join our effort in preventing the war.”

_ It was the right thing to do _ , Corvo gestured at Pendleton who nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course. Nobility of the lower class is always a matter of admiration. May I say, Corvo, that this journey will be useful to all the parties involved. I cannot imagine what the Pandyssians have in mind with all this war business. After all, why would we need a heretical artifact here in Dunwall and who would be so bold to steal it? The funds for such a scheme would be immense and I do not think any of us possesses quite so much.”

Corvo shrugged lightly.

_ There are always grand powers working behind any intention. We simply don’t know who is the mastermind of this very issue. _

“Indeed, Corvo, well-said. As an owner of quite a few mine facilities and weaponry productions, I can confirm that people’s mind is a labyrinth that has no escape. In business it is as obvious as it is in politics. And once you attempt to try and understand, you get lost without guidance. But there are always motivations,” Pendleton’s face set into pondering and Corvo gazed at him eminently. But then the lord shook his head and smiled, taking a hold of Corvo’s arm and then sliding to shake his hand again.

“Ah but I must be boring you with this conversation. It was a pleasure meeting you, Corvo. I know we can expect great things from you. Consider your life as a poor fisherman over, because I fear this little venture will gain you a position, some wealth and, perhaps, a set of connections. As you were, Corvo.”

Pendleton smiled tentatively and stepped away to join other lords among the present, and Corvo stared at his back. There was something odd about the man, but, perhaps, it was his slightly nervous stance that made him seem as such. But for the rest of the evening Corvo couldn’t shake off the suspicion that he was missing something in the entire affair.

The day of his departure drew nearer and nearer like a condescending inevitable, and Corvo succumbed to nerves the closer the date came.

***

_ “21st Day. Month of Harvest. _

_ We have all been blind. The people I trusted and even I, myself, closed my eyes to the obvious. Such blindness was my eventual undoing, but how could I know Corvo would turn out to be the man he was all that time? The Empress is a powerful woman, but not the all-knowing god. I wish…” _


	3. To Tear You Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, ey... Would love to hear your feedback on how this story is going and what you think will happen next!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

_ “2nd Day. Month of Nets. _

_ The night before the ship’s departure I had Corvo invited to my rooms for a dinner. There was no hidden message behind my intention, but I wonder if somewhere down the pleasant hours we’ve sat away, I may have swayed, staggered off the nurtured chosen path. And while we have not laid hands on each other, I may have accidentally given a part of my heart to him. I did not love him, but I thought of him more than was permitted. _

_ In the end, I think, like many others, I fell for the power of his mind and not his heart.” _

“Why, Corvo, are you unwell?” the Empress asked, standing by a round table, filled with trays and plates of food. It was very obviously set for two, a set of candles in the middle and the centerpiece itself draped with hydrangeas and leaf vines. Corvo stared at the table, then turned his gaze to Jessamine, who gazed back. Her face was set in quite an agreeable smile, relaxed and inviting.

He shook his head: a man of his standing had no right to keep the Empress waiting, and he walked inside a small dining room, closing the door behind him.

“Do sit down. I am very pleased to have you here with me to share a dinner,” she sat at the table without any ceremony and he followed the suit, placing himself in front of her on a cushioned chair.

He was unaccustomed to comfortable living, let alone luxurious one. He was hesitant of taking the silverware, confused at his own reflection on a polished goblet. And he kept his gaze on the Empress who seemed entirely unperturbed by such attention. Corvo may have spend a week or so in the Tower, its grandeur still left him awestruck and the manners of lords and ladies were not as familiar to him as to them. He wondered if the Empress expected no more.

An unpleasant tug, an inkling in his stomach told him that he was not supposed to follow the Empress’s whim of a dinner. Had it been more official, with more people invited, he would have felt at ease that at least the lady didn’t have to face any nasty rumours that could spring. He wasn’t a fool to fail to realise that a man in a woman’s quarters, especially of such a standing, was begging for ridicule and trouble through the gossip.

Jessamine sensed his tenseness quite well and put the fork aside.

“Corvo, I invite you to relax and forget for this night that layers and layers of class, position and wealth are separating us. I would very much like to enjoy a conversation with you. Tell me about your travels out in the sea. Particularly where this peculiar tattoo comes into play,” she tipped her chin at Corvo’s left hand where the Mark rested as a dark spot. So this was what it was about.

He obliged the lady. Told her some minor stories where the mark helped him, and the ship he was aboard, evade a particularly nasty school of hagfish, another story where he had to use his power to remove alcohol out of the crew that got untimely drunk. They were crude stories and he felt brutish for telling them to the Empress, but there was barely any choice. Other stories… he could not bear repeat them.

How they made him kill a whale with this very hand. How he pushed a man into water, robbing the oxygen out of him, because the said man displeased the captain. How he was forced to infiltrate a small passing vessel, employing his powers, and steal things, then sending the little ship crashing at the rocks because the captain was paid to do this.

He wasn’t proud of those stories. He wasn’t proud of those choices, because at the end of the day he knew he could always choose something else. Mercy. Disobedience to his betters. And yet he followed, and regretted it every day of his life.

“...Emily has developed quite a craving for the stories about pirates and seas and whales. She finds it romantic, adventurous and amusing. I have never sailed the sea as extensively as you did, Corvo, and yet I am certain that there is little romance to be found in the life of corsairs. Is it not so?”

Jessamine looked at him from behind the wine goblet, tipping it for a sip. Her gaze was unwavering and Corvo knew she was trying to weasel the confession out of him.

“You are a fascinating man.”

He looked at her in bewilderment. Her eyes seemed hazy and her lips turned into the softest smile. His insides twisted - surely the Empress wasn’t hinting at attempting to seduce him? Panic rose high in him.

_ There is very little of fascination in me, I fear, my Lady. Only the Mark, and that is not my achievement, only a twist of luck. _

“I insist that you are mistaken. You are quiet, coarse, rough edged, but intelligent. Your intelligence lies not in years of education, but wisdom of life gathered through the toughest challenges. As for your Mark, I do not believe it to be a twist. A cold calculated move of some power beyond our understanding. I did say I do not believe in the Outsider as a conscious human-like entity, but I do believe in… something more.”

Corvo smiled.

_ Do you believe I was marked by the devil, then? Not brought up by the witches who would have me take over the Empire as recent gossip would have it? _

Jessamine laughed at his statement, a bit too loud for an Empress, and leaned back in her seat. Now she seemed entirely relaxed and that made Corvo feel even more intimidated by her presence.

“I don’t know what the Pandyssians believe the devil to be. But do I believe there is a force watching us crawl like ants in an anthill? That there is someone who holds this entire world in its hands? Yes. Yes, I do believe it. And that this someone, “a devil”, as you put it, has marked you.”

Silence fell between them. Corvo looked at the Empress, his lips almost open. He swallowed. What the lady was getting to, he could not guess, an Empress’s mind was a complex one, but then she rose, and so did he, and she approached him.

Her hand took a hold of Corvo’s marked hand and he felt a rush of electricity, shock through his skin. Jessamine showed no sign of noticing, instead brought his hand closer to her eyes and into the light.

“Fascinating…”

What she was going to do Corvo was glad to never learn out, because loud rapid knocking on the door made the lady drop his hand.

Little lady Emily appeared on the threshold when Jessamine gave her permission for the door to be opened. The girl looked curiously and somewhat regally about the room and Corvo studied her. Young, curious like a cat, resembling her mother both in posture and appearance. But right now, looking so distressed.

Jessamine reached out for her daughter who approached, looking mildly scared.

“I am sorry for intrusion, Mother. I had bad dreams.”

The Empress’s face softened and she pulled the girl in her arms, embracing tightly. Corvo stepped aside, casting himself in the shadows, feeling an intruder in this small family scene.

Emily let go first, sniffing a little, and turned to Corvo.

“I dreamt of sea monsters. And one was dragging me down to the bottom, where I couldn’t see anything, only hear screams. And he was so pale, like light itself. But so beautiful, I kept staring.”

It was as if someone plunged him in water again. That nightmare was all too familiar, a haunting memory of his near-drowning. And now the imperial heiress, frightened to the core, was seeing the same image, the same thing he was forced to watch as the unfamiliar force pulled him down. For someone so young she showed a lot of courage, not a single tear slid down her cheeks, facing the nightmares of this kind.

Was the trickster devil trying to get a hold of the little Empress-to-be?

“Corvo, please stay here for a moment,” Jessamine asked, looking up at him. Her eyes gleamed strangely, pleading. He nodded, and the Empress left him alone in the room, guiding little Emily out. The door closed and Corvo was left alone with the flicker of candles and many worries.

As soon as the Empress’s and her daughter’s steps turned into a whisper and then vanished entirely, Corvo felt how eerily quiet the room was. He was all too aware of his breathing, of the way the candles whispered as their little flame tongues danced. Feeling somewhat restless Corvo walked the room in slow circles, measuring the carpet with his steps.

What was the purpose of this meeting still evaded Corvo. So much courtesy for a man of no standing, a simple fisherman who had known nothing in his life but abuse and misery, endless loneliness. To be risen to stand in the Empress’s rooms with a prospect of distant travels not as a slave but as a near equal felt like a well-crafted fraud.

Something howled outside in the wind, perhaps, the restless hounds beneath in the kennels. Even with the sea’s proximity Corvo couldn’t hear the waves and missed them dearly.

The Empress did not return for what felt like dragged torturously slow hours, even though a small clock on the shelf ticked about fifteen minutes away. Corvo had put out the candles but one and sat on the chair, tapping his fingers nervously on the desk. Could he just leave? Was it appropriate?

It was late into the night, creeping up to morning, that Corvo’s head lulled to the side in a restless sleep.

“Corvo!”

The Empress’s whisper pierced his hearing like a scratch of a nail on glass. He shook his head and rolled muscles to make shivers run down his spine. He was up on his feet already, when Jessamine approached.

“I apologize for making you wait for so long a time. Emily couldn’t fall asleep and I had to attend to something else entirely. I did not forget about you,” she smiled a little. Behind this facade of kindness Corvo could see so clearly how much worry there was in Jessamine’s heart. 

They retired soon enough, Corvo with his mind troubled, the Empress looking alerted. As soon as he was back in his room, he undressed and slid beneath the heavy blanket, but sleep evaded him. He wasn’t frightened of dreaming the deep endless cold.

He was only scared he might not find its elusive mysterious inhabitant this time.

***

The ship they were to board for the journey was a small but neat vessel, quieter than any ship Corvo had sailed and more magnificent in its design. Sleek and convenient for quick travel as well as covert matters.

“You will be very comfortable here,” said Piero Joplin, one of the people outfitting the ship. Corvo couldn’t help a smile, remembering Samuel’s words - perhaps, Corvo indeed now had a boat designed by the infamous creator. Piero’s voice was leisurely drawling, but trembling with nervousness. And every now and then his glance kept sweeping over Corvo’s mark, glaring black in the morning sun. “There is enough room for the entire party, there is a negotiations room and everything necessary for survival. I have included a small barge in case of storms, but those are not on the forecast for another month.”

“Thank you, Piero,” Jessamine said kindly, crossing her arms and embracing herself from cold. Even the long coat she was wearing over her shoulders couldn’t save her from sharp morning winds of the sea. Corvo was used to them and to the salty scent of it.

“It is a fine vessel, but surely such luxury is not necessary,” said a man in a red coat, a man that Corvo had seen only in newspapers. The High Overseer Campbell, his sharp profile expressing a slight displeasure at the sight of their vessel.

“Come now, Campbell, it does not do being in such a brooding mood before the departure. Remember your mission and the fact, that the Empire’s safety is at stake,” Havelock patted his shoulder a little and Campbell furrowed brows, but said no more.

Martin and Campbell climbed aboard the ship together with Corvo, having bowed a goodbye to the Empress. She watched them down from the docks, her sharp eyes focused on Corvo only. He gazed back, nodding a little. The promise of watching out now given twice, to Curnow and to Jessamine, sat heavily on Corvo’s shoulders.

But now, out here in the sea, where water surrounded him as an engulfing body, Corvo felt better than ever before. The ship signaled its departure and slowly pushed away into the sea. Calming waves separated as the vessel cut through them on its way away from Dunwall, heading to mysterious Pandyssia. Despite the final goal, Corvo felt at peace for the first time in a long while.

“Well, Corvo, I imagine this is going to be quite a journey for you,” Teague Martin approached him by the railing and leaned on it, his Overseer’s uniform trembling on the wind. “But now not as a ship worker but an honoured guest. Enjoy this opportunity.”

He smiled dryly and ran a hand over his face.

“Truth be told, I hate this salty air. But the prospects of Dunwall’s state are worth suffering a little.”

Corvo shrugged and, too, leaned on the railing, watching the city ever so slowly diminish.

***

The journey was many things that Corvo had never experienced being on a ship. There was no floor scrubbing or ropework, shouting of the captain or drunken nights with the sailors. Instead, there were small dinners with his companions, discussions of Pandyssian culture and traditions.

Martin took to bringing Corvo’s hand up into the lamp light, studying the black mark and asking Corvo many questions about its peculiar powers. Corvo explained, gesturing tentatively and not entirely certain what this inquisition was about. Campbell paid Corvo barely any mind, only occasionally joining Martin in discussion of heresy.

And when his companions let him go, Corvo rested out on the deck, watching the sunsets and sunrises, rolling black waves and distant horizons of nothing. Neither the Empire nor the Pandyssia were seen by the point of a two-weeks journey.

It was quite a dark night, thick and cloudless, just past a small storm of the previous day. Martin and Campbell as well as most of the crew retired unusually early, all saying that nausea was strong in the latest storm. Corvo felt quite content with that, the Mark’s power protecting him against the displeasures of the sea. He watched the waves raging…

When a white silhouette glided beneath the dark veneer of water. Corvo’s body tensed up as he gazed down at the creature. White, sleek, graceful, it was looking dead and deadly. And so familiar… that creature from the shore. Following him?

Corvo leaned hard over the railing and hovered his hand far above the water, sparkling the mark bright. He clenched his fist for a moment, and the world dissolved of colour, turning dull. The shape beneath the water glowed yellow - alive! Corvo could see nothing but that shape in blackness and he felt its studying presence as he used the Mark. And then it dissolved entirely. Gone. Empty sea again, only flicking lurking schools of fish deep in the waves.

Corvo stumbled back and sat on the deck, back leaned to the wall of the cabins. What the creature wanted with him, he couldn’t understand. But he didn’t feel its hostility. It was curious, like a cat. Corvo looked at his mark, tingling from the usage of power, and sighed. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem eager to merely be in contact.

Corvo stayed on the deck till late hours, watching twinkling stars draw constellations, thinking about the sleek creature, trying to remember its face from their one encounter.

Which was when he felt a heavy blow to the back of his neck, and his consciousness turned as black as the night itself.

His eyes opened heavily and with a lot of effort. Corvo’s gaze doubled and swam and the rocking of the ship did not help it at all. He realised he was lying on the deck, face down to a damp smelling metal plate of the floor. His hands were tied as were his feet, and the knots must have been tight for he could not move half an inch in their hold.

Someone’s monotonous hum joined the crash of the waves as Corvo tried to see through the situation. His eyes focused on the person’s feet just some inches away, and Corvo recognized the rounded polished boots of the High Overseer, trident buckles decorating the fixing straps.

Corvo’s nape was throbbing with pain and he groaned, his sounds gone unnoticed in the soft storm. The hum continued on and on until it became a background noise in Corvo’s mind. He could catch random scraps and words, something about the devil of the sea, about his blessing, about his infinite power. Complete gibberish to Corvo’s ears. Those words intertwined with pain and light hallucinations, making Corvo think that he could see a pale slender shadow somewhere across the deck. That there were murky blurry shadows with fangs, watching and waiting. They wanted  _ him _ .

At last the muttering stopped and someone’s rough hands grabbed Corvo’s shoulders, lifting him off the deck. What last of his gaze remained Corvo focused on the man in front of him. Campbell. Martin?

“This is nothing personal, Corvo,” Martin said as soon as their gazes locked. “You must understand that the Empress is not the only person with her hand in the grand political game. Sometimes there are powers beyond even her reach, and we… are that power. And you are a pawn, no matter how you look at it.”

Corvo tried to growl at him but only strange gurgling sounds came out of his throat.

“Please, don’t strain yourself. It will be over soon. You will not meet with the Pandyssians, there is no point in it anyway. But your death… Oh the Empress will be quite displeased if she learns out that the savages from the isle killed you. And your death will play in hand in this war… The income from it will be tremendous. And our role is yet to play out, mine and my companions’. But enough talk. You have another purpose, for which I must apologize.”

Martin tipped his chin, and Campbell’s hands clenched like iron on Corvo’s arms. His body was still feeling weak, it failed him any attempts at self-defence together with the restraints.

“You are a convenience, Corvo, and I would be a fool not to use this chance,” Campbell said loudly over the storm, looking down at Corvo. His eyes were mad and his mouth was moving all too fast. “You have a mark and I believe it to be a sacrifice worthy enough for the god to bless me. I reunite him with his servant, what more could the devil wish for?”

Campbell gave Corvo a final hard look and then forcibly dragged him to the edge of the deck. Corvo strained and moved his limbs as much as he could, but the lethality, the danger was roaring near. As was the sea. Campbell muttered prayers, filthy prayers to the devil of the sea, and the words ingrained into Corvo’s mind like a searing brand. It was all over. And all he had for the final moments was the prayer to the god who gifted him. What a strange demise!

It started raining. Soft, light, warm.

Corvo could still see the horizon, specks of rain falling and hitting his hurting face. There was a sigh, first Campbell’s, then his own, and maybe this was the end, this was his destiny. There simply was no way to survive the fall, let alone the deep suffocating waters while poison circulated through his veins.

Arms reached out and let him go, and he fell, fell, fell, and he thought the world even paused for a moment, a hallucination or a dying effect, he didn’t know, and he fell… 

_ Splash. _

Water, so dark, so unwelcoming even if he had a connection with it that no other person could imagine. His body wearily struggled against the violent waves, poison sucking out the last of his energy and ropes holding his limbs, but any man, no matter how strong or trained or healthy, could not compare to the powerful whims of nature. It dragged him away, deep down, torn from Samuel, from Dunwall, from everything he cherished, and lastly his life. He couldn’t see anything anymore and his stomach twisted in such aches that he had never known. The last he could see was the ridge of the ship, gliding away from him, leaving the surface worried with waves and rain alone. His eyes blinked heavily with the last bits of oxygen coming out of his mouth in bubbles.

And then something blinded him with whiteness. A face floated before his face, curious and young, no, ancient, an image of an angel. That face he sketched in charcoal. He wanted to reach out for that beacon of hope, but his limbs have long given in and he succumbed to the deathly embrace of the sea around him.

As his eyes closed heavily, his nerves refusing to deliver any sensations, he felt the light embrace of death. There was no light in the end of the tunnel, no flashing memories of his life, not that it was rich with them regardless. All he felt was being dragged somewhere down by dying, and it was entirely too depressing to pass away on such a terrible hopeless note.

Except that he did not die.

_ “Conspirators weaving shadows behind me have blinded me with poison of their wine-sweet words. And only the hint of Corvo that I have missed could have saved me. In the end, we both have drowned in the great game.” _


	4. Oh, I wish you well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the chapter everyone was waiting for, and well, this is definitely my favourite chapter for the aesthetic and other things! :)
> 
> Please please let me know what you think about the fic and this chapter. Your feedback is very much appreciated <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

_“8th Day. Month of Nets._

_When I look out at the sea, I always wonder what those depths are hiding. To us, even to the educated scholars of the Natural Philosophy, the sea is an unknown constant. But what lurks beneath it, does it know all the secrets? Does it know things we are not entitled to be aware of? If anyone of the mortals knows, it is Corvo. And every word he told me later, I believed every single one of them."_

He woke up, blinking salty water out of his eyes, and breathed in deep. There was no burning water in his lungs and he felt oddly warm. There was fabric draped over his naked body, the softest warmest folds. His back was pressed to hills of warm sand, and it was much more pleasant than lying on his shabby old cot in his and Samuel’s cottage. Corvo turned on his side and looked around, failing to recognize the place.

And then he remembered dying. And the white almost glowy creature, ghosting around him.

Corvo gulped, breathing in raw air, and fell back on the sand, pulling the fabric over himself. It smelled like fine perfume, sharp and spicy, but pleasant. Almost like home, Karnaca.

Where was he? When he looked upwards, there was a ragged rocky ceiling of a dark cavern, stalactites scattered richly all over it and threatening to fall. They looked almost like crystals and water had a strange reflecting effect on them, even if the source of the light was unknown. The whole cavern felt like denying the laws of nature, its light wrong and the smell surreal. Corvo found strength to get up and walk around, ignoring the fact that he had no clothing. He did take the drapes of fabric with him, pulling it over his shoulders and feeling incredibly warm. Sand dug between his toes as he stepped, and then was replaced by cold stone that lined the edges of a large cavern pond.

Corvo made a circle around the pond, noting its emptiness but for the small piece of sandy land where he woke up. There was not a single walkway, not one opening in the ceiling. It seemed that the only way out, if there was one, had to be, was through the pond.

The surface of it rippled as Corvo returned to his resting spot, and he backed away from water, clutching at the fabric around him. There was a blinding white spot beneath the worried ripples, and Corvo waited for what felt like hours for that spot to grow and grow, until it had a semblance of a fish and then a man and finally, it sprung from the surface loudly, scattering droplets all over.

Never in his life had Corvo seen anyone like this.

What he knew of the Outsider from the terrible legends, those that were meant not only to scare children to sleep but also to terrify and teach adults, matched nothing to the creature before him. It, _he,_ was youthful and beautiful, the sharpest face features. There was a strange gleam on his skin and Corvo found himself longing to touch and feel what it was like. The creature’s eyes were nothing but blackness, emptiness, reflecting not a single thing as if there were holes in his head.

Corvo felt weakness in his legs, drawn by fear, and he slid down to the sand. His eyes never left the creature’s.

He wondered if the creature might understand his signs, and he attempted to gesture a question with his shaking hands, letting the fabric fall off his arms and leaving him naked entirely. His fingers folded and his hands turned, and he asked:

_Are you the Outsider?_

The creature moved closer to the edge of the pond and Corvo pressed himself into the wall. He had seen plenty of things in his lifetime and faced them bravely, but being possibly greeted by the sea devil made him quite a coward. If the creature were to open his mouth, would there be bloodied fangs with bits of flesh stuck in it? Or just two rows of teeth, white and normal?

But the creature never opened his mouth. Instead, he leaned closer, his fingers curling over the edge, and peered at Corvo.

And then he heard it. Reflecting off the walls, off his own heart, there was a song, vibrating and soothing and wonderful, it sent shivers down his spine. It was a whale song, or something akin to it, and Corvo felt it with every fibre of his being. It was a short sound, but as soon as it ended, Corvo knew the answer to his question.

And the answer was yes.

Shivers rippled his body and he quickly wrapped himself back into the fabric piece, hiding his body away from the devouring gaze of the devil. Those black eyes searched and scorched his body with curiosity, and then they focused on his hand. The marked hand.

The deity was out of water in an instant and clutching at Corvo’s hand with clawed fingers, holding him so hard and tight that he could nearly feel his own bones between the devil’s slimy fingers. He tried to move his hand, but the Outsider glared at him, pierced him with his gaze and then slowly turned it back to the mark.

The inks of the mark matched the blackness of his eyes and hair.

With the soft pad of his index finger the Outsider caressed his symbol, and Corvo shivered. His hold was possessive and his trailing of the finger felt like he was re-marking Corvo into his own again, priding himself on such a catch. Corvo felt himself to be a trophy, a feeling not at all pleasant. But all his assumptions could be wrong, for he was a mortal trying to understand a god.

Finally the Outsider seemed to be satisfied with whatever he could see in Corvo’s mark and he rose gracefully from the sand, stepping away. Corvo hurriedly gestured at him.

_Am I your captive?_

The Outsider smiled at him and then opened his mouth. He wasn’t exactly trying to speak, or rather no sound escaped his lips, but it felt like an odd way of smiling, rounding mouth, with too much lip movement and a tongue visible over two rows of human teeth. So very human.

The whale song vibrated off the walls and Corvo shivered again as it went straight into his mind.

 **_No_ **.

_May I leave?_

The same vibration sang through his skin and Corvo glared up at the Outsider. But sitting on the sand, scrambled in a corner with his mark burning a little and fabric wrapped around him, he felt tiny. Awed before the feet of a god. He stood naked, bare to the core, unashamed and tall. Beautiful.

Corvo found himself crawling towards him and suddenly there was a splash of water and the deity was gone, leaving but the trembled water and a white spot, zooming out and away into the darkness. Corvo was left alone again in the dim cave with no light, no food and no idea what was to happen to him in the following moments.

***

With barely anything else to do Corvo fell soundly asleep. The dull ache in his nape had softened and his body grew used to the humid warm air of the cave. When he woke up again, it was to find a selection of fish and fruit laid out before him in a fancy plate of unknown origin as well as the Outsider, sitting in the pool and watching him awake. It was quite creepy in its way and Corvo wondered how long the devil had spent there, staring at him in his sleep and piercing his body with emptiness. He chose not to sign anything at the Outsider, instead blinking into awareness and sitting cross-legged in the nest of the fabrics, staring back at the deity who remained unblinking.

But the deity seemed to disagree with silence or doing nothing, and the walls reverberated with his song.

It felt as if the Outsider was telling him to eat. His sharp clawed finger pointed at the food and Corvo smiled a little, feeling amused, even though the pointy transparent ends of the claws looked rather threatening.

_Thank you._

The Outsider narrowed his eyes and with a loud splash scrambled out of water, sitting in front of Corvo now, also cross-legged and outrageously naked. He seemed utterly unaware of this fact or rather not at all worried, and Corvo, with a moment’s hesitation, accepted his choice easily, instead focusing on the sweet fruits that at least tasted familiar.

It was odd, biting teeth into stringy mushy substance of the fruit, oozing juice and dripping it down on Corvo’s naked legs, and being eagerly watched by the devil. His black eyes followed every Corvo’s move, and he had to offer a smile to make sure the food was appreciated. That seemed to please the Outsider.

When food ended and Corvo’s body felt somewhat satisfied with energy, a rather awkward silence fell. There were different silences in Corvo’s life: the comfort of Samuel’s rare absence of words or the stillness of the sea or the tense judgement of the ship’s crew. Here was a different silence. Neither of them could physically speak, and even if they could, what kind of small talk to you strike with a god?

The question resolved itself. The Outsider rose and slid back into water, revealing a graceful body to Corvo - muscled and way too ideal. But instead of disappearing beneath the pond, he turned around and beckoned Corvo with a tilt of his head to follow. With another splash, he joined him and felt a tight grab of the Outsider’s hand, slick skin against his rough skin. He felt himself being pulled and next thing he knew - he was in a very different spot.

His insides twisted for a moment and he gulped air and water in his lungs and throat, even though he had been able to swim without breathing all his life with the Mark’s power. This magic here, however, felt odd and new. And the Outsider was smirking, perfectly aware of the effect he had created.

He brought his finger up and called for Corvo to swim closer. He followed and for a moment his heart had missed a beat. Seeing the Outsider’s face… it wasn’t new. It was an image so old, so familiar and yet not at all. He saw him as a child, a pale perfect face of a creature staring at him from beneath the still water. It was when he received the mark.

And it was now again. He hissed in pain as his Mark burned brightly for a brief moment and then turned black again. Corvo stared at his hand in confusion as nothing seemed to happen, but then the Outsider showed him a gesture, a tightly clenched fist. Black eyes looked at him, a sharp gaze nudging to repeat, and Corvo did, feeling the rush of power and being unable to resist its tight pull as it pushed him, pulled him, pulled him apart--

And he found himself some meters away from where he was, the Outsider floating in the dark blackness of the sea. He was smiling.

Corvo was rather grateful for the food provided earlier, because Blinking, as he named it, across meters here and there, exploring the vast volume of the sea with the Outsider in tow felt extremely exhausting. They didn’t talk, but smiles or gazes or gestures felt louder than words ever could. The Outsider’s nature had shifted from mysterious and terrifying to somewhat playful. He laughed soundlessly when Corvo awkwardly slid off a rock above the sea and when Corvo blinked straight into a school of fish that exploded away from him, worrying the waves. By the time the Outsider and Corvo had returned to the cave, laughing a little, breathing harshly, it felt like he had roamed the whole of the sea.

They climbed over into the sandy patch. Corvo sighed with a huff and flexed his exhausted muscles, feeling the pleasant ache of swimming settling in. It was then that he realised how the Outsider, who was sitting just am arm’s reach away, was looking at him. A little bit… longing. Curious. Entirely unhuman.

It was the first time the Outsider allowed Corvo to be quite so close, even if there was still a whole meter separating them. The Outsider, oddly cautious for someone so invasive, sat on the sand, the dust of it clinging to his soles and his ankles, and his hands where they laid on the surface. Corvo could see his pale claws quite clearly now, short but visibly sharp. He wondered how stinging the slash of them would be on whoever’s skin, but he imagined it could not be safe in any way. The devil had to protect himself.

_Have you ever killed anyone?_

The Outsider stared straight at him, his black eyes, the colour of the darkest night sky, drowning him in them. Even without the irises, the deity managed to relay reproach. A no, then.

Corvo sighed in relief.

The sand whispered, and the Outsider crawled closer, legs unsteady as they were unused to walking on the ground. Corvo found himself reaching out, the whole idea of safety blown out of his mind by the Outsider’s presence. He sat close by again, so very close, just like a few days ago when they have met face to face for the first time proper. But now he seemed to be decided on not leaving. Curiosity got a hold of him, and Corvo felt the same, because his hand reached out, inch by inch, trembling wildly the closer he reached the creature.

He feared there would be a hiss and a flash of claws, his eyes poked out or his throat slit open to drip blood on the creamy sand. But the Outsider sat still, blinking, and when Corvo’s hand was but half an inch away, he pushed into the touch.

It felt like touching a fish, really. Slimy, so slimy, Corvo’s fingers turning slightly sticky with the substance that covered the whole of the Outsider’s body. But beneath that he could feel a very human skin, soft and cool. The Outsider shivered, and the tremble of his body sent electrifying shocks in Corvo’s palm and he pulled away.

His black eyes pierced Corvo with a sharp gaze, steady and unmoving, terrifying that way as if he was waiting. Corvo stared back, mesmerized by the deep black. It was a familiar gaze, one that haunted his dreams, one that faced him whenever he looked in water. But now, so close.

The Outsider rose, still holding his gaze, and Corvo thought for a moment that he was supposed to follow too, but before he could move a limb, the Outsider turned and plunged into the pool, leaving Corvo entirely alone.

***

It was easy to grow accustomed to their small travels around the sea bottom, as Corvo had nothing else to do. Whatever life existed simply ceased to be. Here time had lost all its meaning, as did the light, as did nights and days. The sea simply was, as was the Outsider. They explored the deep dark, picking for little treasures of pearls and swimming with the whales that seemed to be attracted to the devil. Their massive shapes roamed together with them and their black eyes the size of large beads felt all too sentient. There was sorrow in them.

Corvo slowly mustered the art of moving across spaces, burning his Mark up with power. The gift excited him, as did the Outsider himself.

What conversations they could hold, they did. Corvo listened to the Outsider’s verbose speeches, full of odd archaic phrases and words that Corvo sometimes couldn’t understand. They were not the words he was used to hearing, but sounds and wails and creaks with meaning carried in them. The world around them spoke for the Outsider who never once opened his mouth. Yet his voice reverberated off the walls, speaking louder than a human ever could.

Corvo didn’t know how much time had passed since he had been thrown to the mercy of the sea. But something changed when he woke up to find the Outsider perching on the edge of the pond beside him, looking curiously, hands dirty with sand.

Corvo felt he was asking him to go somewhere, follow him, and he did, plunging to the familiarity of the sea and swimming behind the Outsider. His pale soles worked the water hard as he moved on and on and on in some vague direction. He started Blinking, and Corvo followed the suit, crossing immense distances.

Eventually, even the dull surroundings have changed. The water had grown greener, darker, murkier. There were bushes of flowing seaweed and strange dark shapes. Buildings, as Corvo realised, blinking at the image. He pushed through another dense thicket of seaweed only to appear somewhere he did not expect to be.

No sight, even so magnificent as the piers and horizons of Dunwall, could compare to what the Outsider was showing Corvo. A treasure, a landscape hidden beyond the murky curtain, so deep down that no human eye would have ever seen it.

Structures and pieces of fallen buildings, metal carcasses like dead animals, their skeletons peppering the bottom of the sea. They looked like Dunwall and yet resembled nothing familiar. Only faint details that remained and the ruined bases.

The Outsider’s feet fought the force of the sea as if it were air, and instead of swimming and gliding, he walked. His hands reached out for Corvo, and he smiled, and Corvo returned the gentle smile, taking a hold of the god’s fingers.

From the way the Outsider’s heart screamed, Corvo knew this was his birthplace. Not as a god, but as a human. His feet walked here truly once.

They passed through the columns and pillars of a once-city, and Corvo’s heart swelled. It was not just the mystery that followed his every foot step, it was the feeling that there was life once. That the Outsider lived here as a boy. Lost history, drowned with time.

The Outsider’s hand squeezed Corvo’s rough fingers and pulled him further into the ruins. Sand sagged pleasantly under his feet and small fish that could still brave such depths scurried away. As they passed by the destroyed columns, Corvo gently brushed their surface with his fingertips, curious about the image of a knife embedded into the surface. Soft and smooth from centuries of being sunk.

The city seemed to have stretched on and on, layered against the sea bottom like a map. Soon what remained of it took shapes of something resembling a square. Vast and spacy, the ruins surrounding it and a flat of a cobblestone floor, smoothed by centuries, peeking through the sands.

The Outsider led Corvo carefully to the side and seated him, leaned him down on the slab of stone. From that spot Corvo’s gaze wandered up to the barely light surface of the sea where dying sunlight played and tinted the water. The stillness of the world around him, death surrounding and feeling more alive than the busy streets of Dunwall ever did, Corvo couldn’t help enjoying this moment that the devil gifted him. The Outsider himself sat by Corvo’s side and ran a careful, somewhat possessive, hand through Corvo’s unruly hair.

The gesture was oddly fond.

Corvo closed his eyes and listened. The city told him tales through the Outsider’s vacant voice. There were nobles and Empresses here, children danced on the Day of the Last Whale Hunt, and merchants threw coins in the air to tease the poor which came to the festival. There was joy as there was sorrow, there was humanity and cruelty. It was a city just like any other. And like this city, the rest of them would one day drown as well.

And it had its own tales too.

The Outsider stretched on the stone slab next to Corvo and turned on the side. His hand gently touched Corvo’s chest, slickness against his skin, and Corvo smiled. He couldn’t deny the fact that the time spent with the devil has left him fond. Fear of the unnatural was replaced with curiosity, and longing for reality swapped for contentment. The Outsider’s black eyes and pale skin were a wonder he craved to touch.

Where such feelings have come from he truly couldn’t say.

Corvo closed his eyes for a moment, and when he looked up again, the Outsider was leaning over him, face so impossibly close. His head was cocked curiously, and his mouth parted. Corvo waited. Taming the wildness as was the Outsider meant letting him take his own pace. The Outsider looked at him, in his eyes, flicked gaze at his mouth as if he were considering something. And when he made up his mind, he leaned down to close the space between their lips and kiss.

The teeth were human, the tongue was not. Rubbery, strange, flexible, running over Corvo’s as he and the god shared a kiss of gentleness, even if open-mouthed. Before Corvo could properly respond, however, his mind twirled and he succumbed to a strange hallucination.

There were scraps of images, flickering like silvergraphs, strangely quiet. There was the city, columns and dead carcasses now risen to stand tall and proud. Peopled, colourful, lively. There were purple banners and prayers and the Outsider’s black mark at the center of everything. An image of a Twin-Bladed Knife made into stone on pillars. It was a city of heretics, a land of heretics. This had to be Pandyssia.

Corvo tried to grasp at the reality, but the Outsider kissed him deeper, gently encircling his wrist with slim fingers. It was a plea to listen and to watch.

Corvo succumbed. He could now see a woman of such beauty that his heart ached. She laughed and enticed, but her sharp eyes, however, were cold, sneering and seeking out treasure rather than kindness of self.

Then he saw pale hands holding: he recognized the Outsider’s slim fingers, water dripping off them, reaching out from the shore to gently hold the woman’s hand. She let him, laughing a little, blushing sparingly. There were blue flowers woven in her hair.

Corvo watched her swim with the Outsider, splash in the pre-waters of the shore, then deeper and deeper as he pulled her with himself. He could hear the echoes of the world, and there was his name, _The Outsider_ , there was her name, _Adeline_. It was said in the god’s voice, a voice that once existed. A beautiful ethereal sound of the beyond.

The picture of happy smiles and light waters had changed to something so grim, so opposite. People running, people screaming, columns falling to the sea, blood splattering as the great leviathan, the great devil of the sea, fought against the people who sought his binding. And as they took the Twin-Bladed knife from Adeline, who managed to steal it together with the Outsider’s heart, the god cried for mercy in anger and pain. His body trapped in the deep dark, the Void within his arm’s reach and yet sealed forever.

And with his pain, with his godly humanity, the city had fallen as the whales have thrown themselves on the buildings, crashing it to the sea. A great age had ended.

Water stung Corvo’s eyes. He blinked as the Outsider pulled away, mouth still a little open.

The journey back was in complete silence as both of them were contemplating the visions. To Corvo, those images were new, strange. There was humanity to the Outsider before, the world seemed different. There was more a man than a monster, a devil. Betrayed by a cult, by a beloved, by the entire world that sought to capture him, hold him as a beast. But a beast was prone to destruction that killed those who hurt him, but not everyone. Not enough?

They still held him captive, and now the Knife had fallen to someone’s hands in the Empire. Everything felt all too complicated, a cat’s cradle for politics, ruin, schemes. Both Corvo and the Outsider were at the end of the same spear that was meant to pierce a target, one that Corvo wasn’t sure about. What the people behind the theft, the plot, were planning to do seemed to put the entire world in danger.

Back in the cave the Outsider and Corvo immediately fell to each other’s arms. They cuddled, for the lack of a better word, shared the peace and quiet. Corvo’s hand gently stroked the Outsider’s slick arm, and the devil’s fingers played with his chest hair. The moment felt wonderfully intimate. How they had come to care for each other to such a degree, Corvo didn’t know.

He pulled away for a moment, only to ask.

_You trusted Adeline, and she failed you. Why did you trust me?_

The Outsider looked at him, propped up on the sharp elbows. He stared at Corvo, his gaze thoughtful and lost. As if he himself didn’t know the answer. But eventually, he did reply.

**_You are not Adeline._ **

This was the moment Corvo knew they both had passed the point of no return. It tore at him on the inside, and he couldn’t admit he was not terrified. Every fibre of his being, every single cell trembled as he fought to find the strength to wrap an arm around the god and pull him close. The Outsider followed, a mellow mass that craved for affection and touch. Corvo had rather hoped he could provide both.

With some effort, he dragged the Outsider over himself. Black eyes, spotless and gleamless and simply terrifying, they gazed at Corvo, inducing the tremble of fear now rather than longing. He wondered if even now the Outsider could hear the screams of the Void, of all the fallen and the sacrificed, who were sealed away, of those, who weren’t. Could he even at this moment, so intimate such as this, hold the world within his fingertips, wrapped tight like a string?

He wanted to make him forget.

Their mouths met, and Corvo succumbed to the feeling of a cool mouth, rubbery tongue sliding over his. It made him dizzy, faint, and he breathed out heavily right into the Outsider’s mouth, sighing with every bit of want that seemed to have been flowing through his body. He could already taste the sweetly toxin off the Outsider’s tongue, and as it melt and mixed with his own saliva, he merely waited for his mind to click.

He felt it gradually. Slowly his limbs turned pleasantly warm and achy, and he wrapped them tight around the deity. He closed his eyes and wallowed in the slow languid slide of the Outsider’s lips. Smiling, he nipped at his lower lip and earned a sweet writhe of a body in his arms, fidgety to get more. He nipped again, and then allowed himself another slide of a tongue over the Outsider’s.

How odd it was to realise he was kissing a deity, one that commanded the whole of the other side, the Void, one that made the stuff of legends. One that gifted him.

He pushed his Marked hand under the other, and pressed it over the Outsider’s skin, moving it up and down his back, invigorating. He felt the creature arch into his chest, and he pressed harder, kissed harder, wanted harder. How Corvo wanted to tear the sacred envelope away from the god’s body, to make him much more tangible than he was even in Corvo’s hold. What indulgence did that tongue hide, what trembling beauty could meet Corvo’s gaze if he were to undo the Outsider? He longed to know.

They kissed more, lost within each other, cradled by the sweet songs of the whales in some far away distance. At last Corvo found the will and strength to pull away, and his head fell back properly on the sand. The Outsider’s face hovered above him, ghostly pale, hazy like moonlight. There were ripples of azure blue light all over his face and body, making him entirely surreal. It was a part of his deific magic, perhaps, because the cave was pitch black and had no access to the surface. There simply could be no light, and yet something made those ripples appear, and paint the cavern’s walls and the Outsider’s own body in light blue and teal. Corvo moved his marked hand up and traced one gleam of light, one that ran like a scar along the Outsider’s shoulder.

The deity’s face tensed up, but then he relaxed, smiled and softly, lovingly, tilted his head and nudged for Corvo to cradle his face. The man obliged and cupped his cheek, swiping his thumb beneath the black-black eye, skin delicate. And then he moved and pressed him close again, capturing his full lips and devouring his mouth.

Their hands wandered. Wherever they could reach, Corvo touched the Outsider, traced up and down his sides and hips, and when felt so moved, gripped on his buttocks, making the deity bite into his lips and claw at his skin in pleasure. All that caress was returned just as fervently when the Outsider calmed, carefully touched his neck, dangerously sharp claws too close to the lively arterias. He rubbed against his nose and traced his face with the nose tip, he tangled his ankles with Corvo’s.

And among that, they felt each other grow harder and wanting, grinding against each other just a little. But Corvo wanted more. Wanted it differently.

There was little to do with clothing for the foreplay. All Corvo had was a soft piece of purple fabric, and even that was spread beneath him, leaving him naked. The Outsider, bare to his essence, was already straddling Corvo, and it was only a matter of seconds for them to properly touch.

No. No, he wanted to do it differently.

Corvo pulled away and pushed the Outsider to the side a little, ignoring the protest on the deity’s face, ignoring the hands that tried to hold on and stay straddling. But he forced more, carefully, and the Outsider followed the prompting of lying next to his captive. Corvo turned on the side, so that their chests met, and then looked down.

Properly. For the first time, he allowed himself to look.

He was beautiful. Already engorged and looking slick with the slime of his skin. As Corvo looked, the Outsider moved his hips and the side of his cock touched Corvo’s thigh, rubbing against him. For a moment he just wanted to let the Outsider get off on him, hump his leg till his beautiful face contorted and his clawed fingers dug in his skin, but he wanted to do it himself. He wanted to undo the god if he had that chance.

His hand wrapped around the deity’s waist, and he made their foreheads kiss. If only he could talk without engaging his hands, if only he could sing like the whales for the Outsider to hear.

But he could speak in a different way.

Carefully, fingertips trailing down the ridges of the ribs along the side and tracing down the abdomen, Corvo’s marked hand enclosed around the throbbing flesh. The Outsider jerked in place, held by Corvo’s arm, and looked up at him. Oh his face was a palette of emotions, from a needy frown to a furious want.

Corvo couldn’t utter a sound his entire life, left mute by birth, but he could still shush and hush the god, hissing through his teeth soothingly. The Outsider looked at him and his whole body trembled, and all that was left for Corvo was to touch and touch and touch.

He did. Slowly, his hand drawing up the whole of the Outsider’s length, gathering slime under his palm like a natural kind of lubrication. It left a messy wet trail on his own skin, but he paid it no attention - his eyes were fixed on the Outsider’s black inkwells, staring back in utter explosive bliss. Corvo moved his head to the right, and so did the Outsider. To the left - and the god too. The Outsider mimicked his movements, face turning as Corvo’s did, and the only thing different was the growing expression of need that the Outsider sported. His brows furrowed more and more and his lips pressed into a thin line, bleak pink against the white.

Corvo watched him and felt his need somewhat simmer down, soften. Having this deity in his hold, the one who was abused, betrayed his entire life…

Much like himself.

It was wonderful. To have such trust from the Outsider, to hold him like a treasure and to bring him pleasures worthy of thousands of gods. He wanted to make it good for him, and so he touched, fingers curled around the Outsider’s twitching cock, a tight ring of his hold bringing him off.

When the Outsider’s hips stuttered in an electrical motion, Corvo pressed closer. The deity looked down at last, tearing the blackness away, and stared to where Corvo’s hand was pleasing him.

And then he reached out too. Carefully, taking Corvo’s hand in his own and guiding to hold them both, two lengths in one large Marked hand. Corvo obeyed, pleased that the Outsider prompted him to do it. A slimy smooth leg swung to tangle with Corvo’s, making them that much closer to each other. Corvo smiled, taking hold of the two of them, rubbing cocks together. The touch of cool slime of the Outsider’s body felt foreign and odd on his own skin, but soon enough became welcome, only to smoothen the friction. Slick, wonderfully slick and quick noise filled the air, and then blossomed with soft voiceless gasps and hisses from both parties, two bodies joined into one pleasure.

The Outsider’s hips stuttered again as Corvo quickened the pace, and then the cave reverberated. Echoing, panicky, he could feel the question in his chest.

**_Corvo, what is it. Corvo, Corvo, I am burning._ **

The panic, the desperation made Corvo’s skin redden with a pleased flush. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the Outsider’s and soothing him. He couldn’t gesture at him, seeing the position they were in, but he could hold him and continue. He willed himself into the Outsider’s mind, praying that he would hear how good he wanted to make him feel. How good he made feel Corvo. How wonderful it was to hold him, to be allowed to love him and to keep them both boiling in a pool of love, making that very love to each other.

The Outsider’s eyes fluttered open, his mouth rounded and his hands clawed at Corvo wildly, streaking his chest with red scars, grasping at him for purchase as he came. The cave exploded in sound, one that could be barely explained. Buzzing, hissing, exploding, just as the Outsider was. His cock twitched hard, pulsed, come spurting down Corvo’s chest, creaming his fingers as he went on and on. A trembling hand enclosed over his and he let go, allowing the Outsider to take over.

His hands… so much more delicate and careful. His hold was nearly not as tight and the angle felt odd, but Corvo relaxed into the touch. It was his cock alone now, messed up with slime and come, slick and hard in the Outsider’s hold. The stroking was so quick, leaving Corvo’s mind blacked out. All he could see were the Outsider’s wild-wild eyes, and all he could feel was bliss. A heavenly bliss, brought by his devil.

He came hard, so hard, face pressing into the Outsider’s shoulder and his entire body shaking. Any gasps he had he swallowed down, trembling through his body wildly. He felt warm come paint his body, streaks crossing his stomach and the Outsider’s. The hold on him softened, the deity’s fingers gentle, driving him through the aftershocks.

And then they both had simply stopped. Looking at each other and unmoving. Reality flowed back in around them, and Corvo’s sense of awareness revealed the darkness and teals of the cave, ones that never left. The grainy texture of the sand around them and the silky touch of fabric just beneath them, not entirely wet from their sweat. The soft wind from nowhere and the gentle splish-splash of water. And their bodies, hot, trembling, bursting with careful sighs.

It was the Outsider who moved first, entirely uncaring about the mess they both have made, his hand sliding to circle around Corvo’s neck and embrace him. He sighed, and Corvo thought existence sighed with him. And so he sighed too, taking the Outsider’s frame in his tender but strong hold, rubbing his slick skin in soothing motions over the back. He could feel ridges of the flexible spine, trembling of exerted muscles. Their legs tangled together tighter and Corvo closed his eyes.

Sleep came to them softly, like a gust of a gentle breeze in a cave with no beginning and no end.

***

_“Sometimes I wondered if my heart grew soft because of a man I knew for so little. But when I looked in his eyes, I knew that no matter my heart’s desires, those eyes were not meant to look at me. I did not yearn, but wondered at the possibility of such a union. And the possibilities thrilled me.”_


	5. I wish you well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, which I hope you will enjoy!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

_ “12th Day. The Month of Nets. _

_ I _ _ never did like the Overseers, but their work seemed vital to me. Keeping order as well as providing people with something to believe in, something more justifiable than the vague deity of the sea, called devil for no good reason but the ancient legends of a destroyed city, the Overseers were my ally. Not anymore, I fear. Not anymore.” _

To Corvo’s relief, the Outsider was still in his arms when he awoke. Both of them covered with purple fabric, held by each other. There was such lightness in Corvo’s body, such as he had not felt in a long time. Was it a physical relief or a mental one, no matter. The world seemed a better place from the sheer lightness of his body. The surreliality of this put him in an endless liminal space and made time meaningless there.

The Outsider stirred, his seemingly frail smooth body leaving slick trails on Corvo’s skin. He looked up, blinking, black eyes gleaming eerily, and then placed a finger on Corvo’s lips. There was a question in his touch first, then a confirmation, and then a caress that Corvo followed with a kiss on his fingertip.

In just one night Corvo’s world turned upside down and now imagining it without the Outsider felt odd, wrong, merely impossible. Was there Dunwall, did life there truly exist? What was a dream, this strange cave pond or his life of a fisherman? 

In that cave there were no demands as there were no expectations. He wasn’t a tool, he was himself. And the Outsider unknowingly made him his own all those years ago, when he seared the black mark unto Corvo’s hand.

Without speaking they had cuddled each other to the sounds of the cave, craving for nothing else but closeness and caress.

And while Corvo held the god in his arms, he pondered, playing with the folds of fabric that draped gracefully over the Outsider’s lower back. Corvo frowned, pulled it a little closer, and then prompted the god to talk to him.

_ Is this the banner of that city? Your banner? _

The Outsider tilted his head and Corvo hummed - yes, yes, it was. How the fabric could have lived through such a long time he feared to imagine, but that last remnant of a once great city awed Corvo. Was the Empire doomed to survive as a wreck under water in time to come? Corvo realised he wanted to live to see it fall.

Days after days, or maybe much less, for Corvo truly lost the grasp of time understanding, he and the Outsider swam through the deep waters, exploring. Corvo saw memories and recollections of the City through the devil’s kisses. Sometimes, those kisses were nothing but affection too, meant to put the god and his chosen one closer. But other times, history was revealed to him.

The sun broke through the sea, making the waters a little brighter, the glowing disc up in the sea sky where Corvo could see it shining. They have been far beyond the fallen sunken city by the time the sun rose high, and the Outsider was seemingly interested in them swimming together with the whale. It sang low songs, and the Outsider’s  reverberating voice replied. Together, they spoke, and Corvo listened, touched by a true miracle.

All of a sudden, a ship’s signal boomed. Somewhere from the surface, making Corvo flinch. It was as if the dream he had been living crashed against the shore rocks, revealing the rueful reality. After these blissful days, after joining mind and body with this ethereal devil… Corvo was reminded that reality was on the other side of the water surface, waiting. There was an endangered Empire and Empress, there were lives at stake, there was something brewing, and possibly only Corvo had all the pieces on hands to put that puzzle together.

But did it matter? Did it matter at all?

There were few things left to do. He turned in water to the cheerful devil and took his hands. He knew, a long time now he knew what he was supposed to do. There was one piece in this game, worthy to all sides, and he was going to retrieve it and give it to its true owner.

_ I will get it for you. The Knife. And you will be free. _

***

His bare feet cut skin on the sharp rocks of the shore, occasionally got bitten by hungry hagfish that polluted the water with his blood. Corvo persisted, walked on, feeling starved and exhausted by the moment his feet finally touched true land. He felt unsteady, the world seemed wrong when not tinted by water.

His and Samuel’s hut was a once familiar safehouse that now seemed like a new place entirely. There was the boat as was there Samuel, sitting far aside, smoking a cigar. His mouth hung open for a moment when he noticed Corvo, standing there unclothed, trembling a little, staring.

“Corvo…”

The cigar fell to the ground as Samuel rushed towards his friend, grasping his shoulders, laughing in disbelief.

What a gush of relief and warmth Corvo felt at Samuel’s arms, thrown about him, at the affections shown. He hugged him back and smiled widely in his shoulder, feeling his untrimmed beard catch on Samuel’s old jacket.

“They said you died, they said so many people died in that ship crash. Damn be the sea devil, could have killed my best friend!”

Corvo listened, stunned, smiling still and nodding and reassuring with gestures that he was fine, not even a scratch but for those on his feet from the sharp rocks of the shore. But the news of a ship crash, of the Outsider being blamed for it… How many news had been twisted in a dirty political game? And how much danger was Jessamine in if she was surrounded by snakes, aiming to strike a poisonous blow at the heart of the Empire?

Corvo squeezed Samuel’s arms and looked at him intently, to which the fisherman fell quiet. Corvo let go.

_ I need to talk to you, Samuel. Let us go to the hut, I must not be seen. _

“What? Why would you say that?”

Corvo gestured - not now - and led Samuel into their hut, shutting the door tightly and putting out the majority of lights. The room drowned in darkness, lit up only by a lone whale oil lamp and littered by street lights of the Dunwall market above the shore.

Carefully choosing his words, Corvo guided Samuel through his misadventure at the sea, told him about the traitors, about the plots and about his would-be assassination. Sometimes he fell into the memories and they reminded him more of a book than of his own life. Sometimes it seemed his fevered brain inserted the memories of a devil god, residing down at the bottom of the sea. But the mark on his hand was real, so was his power and so was the tingling memory of a kiss on his lips, one which brought memories of a greater distance. Of a near deicide that turned the fate of the world.

“I would have said you hit your head on the water, Corvo, but I know you for a sensible man,” Samuel hummed when Corvo’s hands finally rested on the table, his fingers laced. 

***

That night Corvo could not find his sleep. It is as if the moment he hit the water and met the sea devil, his life had taken a wild turn. Being in the hut where he had lived nearly most of his life no longer felt like home. Even Samuel, an always welcoming father, was almost a stranger. Corvo couldn’t tell him everything that transpired even if he wanted. Even if he tried. After all, barely anything  _ did _ happen, it was all about touches and the strange-strange talking, where he gestured words and the Outsider hummed dark endless songs that relayed meaning into Corvo’s very blood.

And… what happened between them. How can he ever forget the touch of slick fingers and the grace of a gliding inhuman body? Had he gone insane, giving his heart away to the devil living in the very pits of the sea?

Corvo turned on the other side and pushed his face in the pillow. The air was a little too stifling in the hut and smelled heavily of fish, leather and lardy whale oil. Corvo tried to move his focus to the crashing waves of the violent sea that kept beating on the shore ferociously, their madness - a soothing lullaby. And to sleep he succumbed, lulled by the sea that was as dangerous as the one who inhabited it, or so the stories told.

The fisherman’s dreams were bothered and dark and stringy like the dirty ribbons of seaweed he had seen underwater. He dreamt of dying on the shore, breathing in sand and fish bones. He dreamt of terrible hands, bloodied and sharp, dragging him in the crashing waves, but then the dreams calmed. The hands that pulled him turned gentle, and water made sand vanish from his lungs. And as he gulped water and gulped till he could take no more, he lived.

His lungs closed, and--

He woke up. Stifling air burnt his throat as he gasped for it, as if there was still sand scratching his trachea. He coughed in his fist for a little while, trying his best not to awake Samuel, but the old fisherman slept tight and sound, not even turning on the other side as Corvo cleared the impression of the nightmare away from his body.

He finally breathed in and quietly scrambled out of bed, ignoring his old fishing high boots, and carefully made his way out of the hut and onto the beach.

Yellow grass tickled his feet and ankles as he walked towards the sea edge. The night looked peaceful, the sky clear, but Corvo’s mind and soul were perturbed as the sea in the storm. He walked, staggering, to the very edge and let water kiss his feet with cool foam. The touch of it felt soothing, and the more the water washed over him, the less troubled he felt.

_ Hushhh! _

Somewhere to the left the bulrush whispered, its brown heads swinging wildly. Corvo turned abruptly around, seeking out the intruder, but could see nothing at all in the darkness of the coast. There was another rush through the plants and Corvo dived into the thicket, hands cutting on the sharp edges of the leaves. But there was no one at all, and yet there could be no animal either. Dunwall was not widely inhabited with home pets, and rats were simply too small to make such a noise.

Corvo walked out of the thicket, trembling as fear was taking over him. All the evened out breathing turned ragged again, and he wondered if perhaps he was found out, seen even in the blackness of night time.

He rushed home, shutting the lock, and slid under the blanket, hiding himself from his own terrors. His hands clenched on the folds, and he turned on the side, seeking consolation in almost painfully hugging himself. It took a few moments to at least let go, a few more moments - to be able to close his eyes.

When he felt it. The coldest strangest touch, dragging down his spine, something cool and sharp. He froze on the spot, wondering if he perhaps had fallen asleep again. But his berth sagged and a heavy weight pressed to him coldly. He felt sticky liquid drip down his ankles, and he sighed out shakily.

Slowly he turned over, taking the Outsider in as he stared at him with those black eyes.

Corvo’s eyes widened in question, to which the Outsider took his hand and pressed to his cheek. His black eyes closed and the only reminder of his inhuman shape was the slick surface of his skin, staining Corvo’s hand and sleeve. But it mattered little, for he could not have enough of the god’s gentleness, strange yearning. It was easy to guess how easily the devil of the sea got himself attached to anyone able to communicate with him. It must have been coming from the years and years of isolation for a soul, somewhat human in its origin and sense.

Corvo softly petted him and pulled in a gentle kiss. Felt a flick of a rubbery tongue and calmed his god with a pet on the nape. That night they did not indulge in lavishing kissing, instead, Corvo cuddles his sleepless god, putting himself to such needed sleep.

He had only a few hours of it left. And when he woke up, still drowned in the darkness of the night, his bed was empty and half sogged in sea moss and fish slime.

***

Dunwall at night lived a life of its own. The shadows twisted and merged under the flickering lights of whale oil lanterns. People were scarce, and Corvo was grateful as it made his journey to the High Overseer’s office that much more easier. And as Corvo crawled upon the roofs, he pondered how much the city and his own life had changed.

Now that Teague Martin had the grasp on the Overseers, one could only wonder what they would achieve. Corvo alone, perhaps, knew that Martin cared about the Overseers as much as Corvo - not a bit. No, this man always had something different in mind, too clever a snake not to calculate his every single step. Corvo gritted teeth, Blinking across the roof - he was a tool here too, aiding Martin in getting rid of Campbell. Corvo simply was convenient.

Quietly stepping on the chipping shingles, Corvo perched on a ledge on the building across the Office. From there he could see but a couple of Overseers, marching up and down the square, their weaponry gleaming a little. What such a set up of swords, pistols and grenades was needed for one could only guess, but Corvo, with his insight, knew that it was a precaution against the impending war.

Corvo sighed. The way to the Office was complex and he felt a little exhausted because of the Blinking. Gulping down a small vial of potion, feeling the energy returning to his body, he blinked again, but his feet slipped a little on the slick edge of the street lantern and his heart sank.

He nearly fell. A spike of adrenaline in his blood, a missed heartbeat, and he panic-Blinked across to the ledge of the Office, successfully perching there by a sheer miracle. He had never been so close to praying in his life before.

The High Overseer’s Office had an odd ambience. There was a soft distant murmur of the strictures from some room, there was a quiet noise of the Overseers’ boot heels, clanking in the halls. There was an audiograph playing elsewhere, a beautiful classical tune chiming. So peaceful, inducing a feeling of serenity. But from every corner Corvo knew to expect a sharp blade of a sword or a blast of a pistol. But he had hoped he would not have to encounter it.

Listening in a couple of Overseers’ conversation, Corvo learnt a possible location of Teague Martin and headed there with determination. The tang of truth nearly burnt his mouth, how fervently he wanted to put a blade to the man’s throat.

And when he found him, that desire rose greatly.

Dressed in a red coat, looking polished in his new position, Teague stood in the main room of his office. There was a masked Overseer before him, waiting instructions.

“I am disgusted to know that we have a heretic in our midst,” Teague said slowly, looking up at the man and then pointing somewhere on his desk. “I fear we will have to use our toughest measure and perform the branding.”

“Yes, Lord Overseer. The Brothers all agree with this decision. We must make an example of it.”

“Have the instruments prepared for branding right away. I shall join you with the convict shortly.”

The Overseer nodded and left the room. Corvo stared at his back, wondering what kind of crime the man had committed to have gotten himself to branding. An infamous ritual of the Abbey, leaving a terrible trident mark on the accused person’s face. They would not have been welcome anywhere, and even the streets would have been a worse exile.

Was it a true heretic or was it an unlucky fool who had gotten in the way of Teague Martin? If all went right, however, this Overseer would not be torturing any other person with his ambitions.

Corvo carefully crouched and Blinked to a lantern right above the desk, his gaze focusing on the man below. Left alone, Teague leaned over a scatter of letters on his desk, pondering thoughtfully over whatever business was presented in them. Names and numbers, Corvo squinted to look at them, but that information made little sense to him. Time was going out.

This was when Corvo took a leap and jumped right behind Teague to pull him in a choking lock.

Words failed the man, as did his breath and strength, and he flailed helplessly while Corvo put him in a state of unconsciousness. Struggling to take the air out of Teague’s lungs, he finally managed it, cradling the Overseer’s unconscious body in his arms.

Hearing footsteps behind the door, Corvo Blinked up onto the wall ledge with Teague’s body thrown over his shoulder. Though his weight would be an inconvenience while looking for the branding room, Corvo couldn’t allow the opportunity of finding his unconscious body by leaving it anywhere in the Office.

The ledge creaked lightly under his feet as he Blinked out and away across the halls, peeking into the rooms through ventilation gaps. Here and there he could see Overseers, studying or talking or praying. There were guards too, though few in numbers inside the interior. It certainly helped when Corvo nearly fell off another ledge, overweight with Martin’s body.

As he searched for the room, he wondered what he would do to the man in question. Desire to take revenge was so strong. But there was more than his own life on stakes. There was another life now to care for, part of it linked to the black inked image of the mark on his hand.

The branding room hid behind a vast reinforced door, not a proper obstacle for Corvo. Inside it he found a lone Overseer from earlier, holding the brand in his hand and studying it under a cold light of a whale oil lamp. The lamp buzzed annoyingly in the silence of the room, making the place feel eerie.

Corvo lowered Teague on the sofa, hidden from the Overseer’s gaze, and peered at him through the metal bars, splitting the room into a cage, where the Overseer stood.

A calculated Blink, a split second in Corvo’s favour, and the Overseer was choked out unconscious to be stowed away till all is done with Teague.

The lamp put his face in a strange perspective here in the holding chair, his hands and ankles secured with metal. He looked oddly young and serene, as if he did not attempt murder on occasion, as if he wasn’t the greatest plotter of the Empire. As if Corvo didn’t hate every bit of him.

He awoke Martin with a hard slap across his face.

“Fuck… what is going on? Corvo?” his eyes widened and Corvo looked down at him, arms crossed. Tilted his head as Teague took his time to reassess the situation. Moved his wrists to try and get out, looked around. Smart enough not to have shouted for help - Corvo was too big a pawn in his game to be revealed alive, when he was meant to be dead.

Teague sighed and semi relaxed in the chair.

“Fine. Let’s talk. What do you want?”

_ Truth. What are you planning? _

“Corvo, having me in stokes will not make me tell you about any plans. I have already slipped too much, but then, I didn’t know the devil gifted you the power to come back from the dead,” Teague gritted through his teeth and struggled against the restraints more.

_ One question. Where is the Twin-Bladed Knife? _

Teague looked up at him, defiance in his face, shaking his head a little. Corvo gave him a heavy look and stepped to the working table where a brand was. Took it in his hand and returned to Teague, putting the brand an inch away from his face. The acid on the brand nearly poisoned the air around them.

Now Corvo spoke not in words, but alphabet, spelling out short words.

_ Knife. Location. Now. _

Teague shook his head and Corvo pressed right arched side of the brand to his face. Teague cried out but by that time the brand was gone, leaving a burnt bloodied mark on his cheekbone.

“Stop this!”

_ There is one thing you will cherish more than any plan and any ally - your own ambition. I could burn every single one of them out of your life with this brand. _

A tear slid down Teague’s wounded face as he breathed fast, turning his face away from Corvo.

“Fine… put this thing away. I will tell. But you cannot change anything, Corvo, the cogs and wheels are already in motion. The war is inevitable. And if you put me out of the game, the Empire stands no chance.”

Anger boiled in Corvo’s veins.

_ You have instigated it and I can bet you have a backup plan for your own escape. Do not play with my compassion, Teague, I have none for your kind. Now, tell me the Knife’s location. _

And he spoke. Of the imperial vault where it was most likely to be kept. And he spoke of those who might want to steal it. Of the district on the edge of the city, of the man who wanted it in his possession. Of the man named Daud, a name Corvo had never heard before, but which apparently terrified the nobility of the city, whose families were on the assassin’s roster sooner or later.

Corvo rubbed his forehead when Teague finished spilling the secrets. His destination was set, and time was running out. The sooner he dealt with the knife, the sooner the Outsider would be free.

“What are you going to do to me now?” Teague asked, careful sharp look in his eagle eyes. Corvo returned a careful look and pondered.

Teague was at his mercy now. In the heart of the Abbey, the High Overseer was helpless, threatened with losing everything, from his position to his life. And for Teague both could mean the latter. The licking tongues of the power’s fire could have easily seduced Corvo.

But he had only one choice.

***

_ “In years after the incident many blamed me for what happened. Such is the price of state secrecy, where conspirators may not be named, for their reveal is a greater blow to the Empire’s integrity than the evil tongues of the citizens. I withstood their gossip and barricaded myself against the accusations. But there are days I wish I could speak the truth of what happened. Perhaps, in time, I will find strength to tell my daughter that the disaster was only partly of my making, if mine at all.”  _


	6. And the auld triangle went jingle jangle; On the Royal Canal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! It's been an awful while since I last posted an update to this fic and I sincerely apologize for it! I had some issues with the last chapter, but now that I've got it all fixed, this story can now be wrapped up.
> 
> But not yet! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I would really love to hear what you think. To all the new readers - welcome, to all the others - welcome back!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

_ “21st Day. The Month of Nets. _

_ I asked myself often if I regretted what I did. But the answer was and is always no. What I have done was for the good of the Empire. I wish I knew other powers were at play. What blinded me to treason, I cannot understand, but in moments of hard decisions I still stand by what I did. And for that I paid a great price.” _

Out into the cool air of Dunwall, swallowed by darkness, Corvo took a moment to catch his breath of all the events of the day. Teague’s gaze felt like a residue on his skin, that gaze as he left him in the seat, unconscious and unbranded. There was no murder to happen, only a threat.

But even like that, it felt wrong after everything Teague had done to Corvo in person and the Empire in general. Was justice so bitter?

Corvo moved through the elevations of roofs, Blinking here and there. At one point he paused again where the view opened to the endless dark sea. Somewhere there was a god, a devil swimming, singing ancient songs and waiting for his lover to return. 

At this moment Corvo’s head spinned with the knowledge of how vast the world was and how little people understood of it. The horizon was not a border and a limit, it was merely a wall between what was known and what was too much. The world seemed so much bigger on that roof, with the moon gleaming in the clouded sky and mirrored on the waves. The world was bigger than the world could be itself.

It felt a little more terrifying to have some of that world in his hands. Or soon, when he had gotten the Knife.

Making way to Jessamine was quite a feat for a man presumed dead. Corvo carefully stepped down the ledges, ran the roofs together with deep solemn shadows, avoided the beams of security lights that cut through the air like knives, seeking out unneeded targets. With the war threat risen to the highest point or near it, the city felt like it was standing on the brink. People were afraid, even if no one outside the Tower knew the exact extent of danger everyone was in.

And Corvo stood amidst it all, unwillingly turned a pawn turned a knight. More than that, he felt more detached from the matters of the Empire than ever before.

Jessamine was his only hope. He wished the Empress well, and well she couldn’t be while traitors roamed the halls of the Tower. It was his duty as of a citizen to protect his Empress, but it was also a friend’s deed to. And so he ran, using his newfound power of a Blink to cross particularly dangerous and wide gaps between buildings. And with every surge of power, pumping through his body like oxygen, Corvo remembered his black eyed devil, waiting in the shallow waters of the sea shore, watching the moon as it met Corvo’s every new day.

He was lovesick, Corvo, and it embraced him with every inhale, every motion, every second.

The Tower felt more familiar right now than ever, its dark gray silhouette making it seem paper-made against the sky. The gardens swayed the treetops eerily, sharp branches lit up by the lanterns down on the grounds. It wasn’t a late enough hour for the whole of the Tower to be asleep, and so there were guards roaming. Corvo perched on a building nearby, hiding himself behind a chimney. His gaze searched and searched for a clue, and one presented itself to him when Corvo noticed Jessamine’s slender frame, together with Emily next to her, walking the garden path.

Corvo breathed out. The end of this part of his journey was nearly over and he was only a step away from saving the Empress from her conspirators.

Now he had to wait. The sky turned entirely too dark to make the moon blinding and soon the gardens looked like a monstrosity from this distance rather than a proper place of rest. Jessamine must have decided the same as she ushered Emily to take her hand and walk towards the Tower.

Corvo stepped out of the shadows and Blinked across to a column, then to the rooftops of the small kennel, to the boat dock building and up onto the Tower ledge itself. He couldn’t know which window in particular was one of the Empress’s and with a fearful shiver he slipped inside the Tower through a metal ventilation opening, crawling down the metal walls.

With a much faster work inside he made his way upwards, to the very top. Jessamine’s room, however, was guarded and most certainly locked. Nearly stumbling in one of the patrolling guards, Corvo blinked onto a ceiling lamp, eager to hide his presence away from the protectors of the Empress. His attention, however, was drawn by the appearance of the lady herself, her daughter hanging on her arm.

“Mother, I’d rather play a bit more,” Emily whined, tugging on Jessamine’s hand.

“Emily, it is late and you need to get some rest. You have been out all day, do you not feel sleepy at all?” Jessamine laughed softly, looking at her daughter who shook her head.

“No. Do you think Callista would come and read me another pirate story? Would  _ you _ ?”

Eager, unruly as always, Corvo smiled fondly from his spot on the lamp. The Empress and her daughter disappeared, and Corvo returned to contemplating his choices.

The choice found Corvo hanging on the ledge from the outside, pushing up to get onto Jessamine’s balcony and through the open window.

The only sound he managed to make was the softest creak of the window. His feet hit the floor with a barely audible thud, and--

“Who are… Corvo?”

Corvo swallowed, his throat wobbling dangerously against the sharp edge of a knife that Jessamine held to him. As soon their eyes met, Jessamine put the knife away.

“They said you died at the sea,” she whispered, hurrying to check if the door was closed and no one was listening in. “Are you a dead man, a ghost, come to haunt me?”

_ Your Majesty… _

Corvo gestured before closing the window.

_ I don’t have much time, but you must be warned. You have traitors in your ranks, people who wish you harm, who use you to push their war agenda. _

“Corvo, what…”

_ Per their orders the knife was stolen from Pandyssia. One is eliminated, at least I hope so, Teague Martin. But there are more, and-- _

“Oh Corvo… What do you propose to do? Clearly we must act immediately.”

_ What you do, your Majesty, is entirely your choice. But I must ask you for something… _

“What is it?”

_ I need the Twin-Bladed Knife’s location. _

As Jessamine’s eyes widened, Corvo hurried to explain how he was used in a vile ritual to be sacrificed to the sea devil who accepted him. He danced around the notion of how close their bond turned out to be, how feelings had grown where death should have sprung out instead. And how Corvo set out to repay the gift of his life to the devil, how the only right thing to do was to return the knife to him, not the Pandyssians.

His hands clenched together and he waited, looking in the Empress’s eyes, regarding her pleadingly.

“No.”

Cold fear trickled down Corvo’s spine at the sharpness of the word. Refusal.

“No, Corvo, I cannot allow this,” Jessamine explained, swiping a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I have sworn to protect the people of my Empire. The emphasis being  _ people _ , Corvo. You are but one man, and the devil is no man at all. I cannot sacrifice the only negotiation option in favour of a love story, no matter how truly touching I find it. If I have to choose one suffering against the suffering of my entire country, then my choice could not be more obvious.”

Corvo’s body seized with fear of what was to come, and he was helpless when the Empress’ voice loudly rose in the air.

“Guards!”

Footsteps outside the door grumbled the floor and the door swung open, guards standing in the opening with their swords atilt. Their eyes fell on Corvo in surprise.

“Arrest this intruder till further notice. I shall judge him personally for violating the privacy of the castle,” Jessamine ordered, looking away. Corvo’s mouth opened in despair, and he wished so much he could cry out and plead for more, but the guards already seized his arms, his shoulders were clenched with hard hands, and they led him out of the Empress’ chambers. Jessamine, her shoulders spread proudly and her head turned away, waited. The moment the doors closed, one guard kicked Corvo’s knee, and he nearly crumpled to the ground.

“What kind of idiot climbs the Empress’ chambers,” the other said with a whiskey-hoarse voice.

Corvo gloomily ignored them as they led him to the inner yard and into the carriage. He remembered sourly that just a few weeks ago this very carriage took him to the Tower as a guest, as a pawn to be added to the grand scheme of things. And now it drove away in a very different direction, to the Coldridge prison, a tall building by the oceanside, its wings towering above water and calling the seagulls in. 

The carriage stopped by the Coldridge prison entrance, and Corvo was pulled out of the vehicle, his hands handcuffed now. He looked around, at the channel that connected Wrenhaven and the sea, at the sky, at the blinding sun and the city behind.

A guard shoved his head down.

“Move it!”

And in stern tense silence Corvo was led inside.

***

_ “I miss the days when I knew little of the sea devil and of the man who was destined for him. Of the traitors in my Empire and of the war. Regrets are not the feelings I prefer in my mind, and I deny them. But memories, oh I long for those old days.” _


	7. Sweet Adeline was singing; To the tune of Royal Canal

_ “3rdt Day. The Month of Rain. _

_ His eyes I will never forget. Or the black eyes that watched me sleep in my dream, even if my sleep was restless and short. In my sleep I had all questions answered and I could never tell the truth for the fear of being crucified by the Abbey.” _

***

Two days spent in Coldridge, and Corvo’s mind had sealed onto itself. Two days spent in putting his thoughts though a self-hating wringer, questioning every person in his life. Blaming himself for letting down the only creature in the world that may have wanted him good, no matter the outcome.

Of course, he then blamed himself even more for thinking bad of Samuel, whose selfless friendship carried him through life.

Such grim thoughts were interrupted by a shadow appearing by the cell bars.

Geoff Curnow’s face was peering at him from the other side, anxious eyes gleaming in sunlight coming from the prison’s open ceiling. Corvo’s cell, located at the top floor of the western wing, was privy to cold night winds and rotten smell from the nearby sewers.

Curnow said not a word, but his hand slowly darted to the cell lock and with a quiet tinkle of a key he opened the door. Corvo stared at him, lost to any reaction, hands resting weakly on his thighs. Curnow nodded in a beckoning motion, and Corvo rose, quietly stepping towards the exit.

There was not a single word said or gestured. Instead, Geoff tapped Corvo’s mark with his index finger, put something in his hand and walked away without anything else done.

There was no time to lose. Corvo breathed in and let the power of the Void drag him up to the prison’s roof, scaring a couple of seagulls perching there. A gulp of power, the burning in his hand was what sprang Corvo back to life. The smell here was bearable, the air cleared up from waste and sweat.

Corvo brushed his hair away from his face and looked at what the note had written on it. In a quick, rough handwriting it said, “The relic is gone”.

Crumpling the note in his fist, Corvo hid it in the inner pocket of his tattered coat.

So the Knife was gone, but who took it? Where could it be? Question upon question, Corvo brushed through them, preserving his energy with short leaps down the building where necessary and climbing the prison as carefully as he could down to the sewers.

Out of all the parties interested and able, there was just one option, one that was in the game all along. Corvo just knew he had to see the people who stole it in the first place and who Teague Martin mentioned in the first place.

***

By the time Corvo reached the old district, night had taken its control over the city. The shadows were thick and the people were few if none at all, spare for some drunkards in the streets and the Golden Cat regulars, stumbling back home after a night spent wildly.

But the further away Corvo moved, the more dead the city felt, until at last he knew he had gotten to a district that reminded him of a cemetery. Not because there were graves and old memories, but because everything here breathed with forgotten past, abandoned.

And with every step, the feeling of self-reassured safety weakened. Corvo was walking straight into a lion’s den, because baiting out the predator was the only way to get his attention. So it was no surprise when there was a whisper of something behind Corvo, and next moment he found himself in a lock of a strong arm. The smell of rubber hit his nose hard, sickening, and he struggled against his captor, breaking out of their hold.

Corvo scrambled to his feet away from the stranger, rubbing at his throat and looking around. Emerging from the shadows, aided by the supernatural power of the Void, more and more men in rubber masks appeared. In their hands they held sharp swords of dark metal, their body in a stance, prepared to fight. Corvo, armed only with the power of the Void, felt entirely powerless, facing so many men.

One of them, tired of waiting, lunged forward, and Corvo Blinked away on a narrow lip on the building’s wall. Others followed, someone slamming a sword nearly at Corvo’s neck, and he managed to move away in the last moment. The metal scraped sharply over the wall, sending sparkles in the air. Corvo leaped to the other side, getting into a fistfight with the other stranger who tried holding his arms while the others tackled Corvo. Overwhelmed and clearly overpowered, there was little left for Corvo to do but leap and leap away, draining all his energy. The men in the masks chased him, through the old carcasses of the buildings, smelling rotten of whale oil and something else.

Suddenly, Corvo stumbled and held himself in the momentum for a moment, stabilizing himself. The men had caught up and looked at him now, twirling the swords in their hands.

“You. Come with us,” one of them said, and Corvo shrugged. Instead, a thought flickered through his mind.

And he stepped backwards into the nothing.

***

Joining with the shadows, Corvo let himself fall and Blink at the last moment deep into the building’s frame. The room, lopsided and dusted and nearly rotten to nothing, hid him from the view perfectly. Corvo pressed hard to the wall. Thanks to night time, there was no light and no shadow to reveal that his body was not there, but the echo of a conversation above could still reach him.

“Daud won’t be happy we have a corpse down there,” one of the muffled voices said and the other muttered something in reply, that which Corvo could not hear. 

Daud? A name too familiar.

And then silence fell, only the distant water trickling from somewhere outside.

Carefully examining the place, Corvo looked for a way out of the room. He could Blink back at least a level higher, but it seemed the place crawled with people who possessed the same powers as he did and being revealed was far too possible an option. But a confirmation, the knowledge that Daud indeed resided here was a spurring motivation, which pulled Corvo to follow a path of broken stairs and furniture up and up the floors.

Though inherently dangerous and unpredictable, navigating the shadows proved effective for Corvo to get up to the very top level. Here and there Corvo heard the assassins talking, discussing the events of the capital, their dirty job, and even rather simple, nearly domestic things like food or playing a round of card games later. 

Next thing he knew was that the attacker had the Outsider’s powers, Blinking him across to another roof, another building and deep into its crumbling carcass.

“Found this one walking into the base, sir.”

Corvo was let go to stumble to the ground, choking for air and rubbing his neck. The hold was Serkonan, which was another surprise.

“Interesting,” said a low rough voice, and Corvo looked up. A dull red coat, straps of leather holsters, a sharp gaze of old eyes. Corvo had never seen this man, and yet he knew exactly who it was.

_ Daud. _

The assassin looked at him cautiously, then waved for this man to leave. The masked man disappeared from thin air like Corvo did when using Blink.

“I give you one chance to state your business,” Daud said, lighting up a cigarette. Another figure emerged from behind him, a woman dressed in a red leather jacket. Her eyes were not as sharp, but she had a prouder stance, looking down at Corvo as he scrambled to talk.

_ I need the Knife. _

The cigarette brightly glowed in the darkness of the night, mixed with dull lights of candles in the room. Corvo could see furniture, posters and maps from the corner of his eye, but his focus was on Daud primarily. Staring and hoping to get an answer.

“So, someone from the Imperial bastards couldn’t keep their mouth shut even to protect their own plan,” the man laughed a little and smoked the cigarette. Corvo could see the ash flying down and landing on the carpet. “Here is how it is. I don’t give a damn about what those fools are planning. I’ve done my part. And the payment was the Knife, which is mine now. The answer is no.”

He nodded and before Corvo could do anything else, a cold blade touched his throat. He couldn’t die, not before, not before…

“Humor me, tell me why you need the knife? Did one of them pay you to retrieve it?”

Corvo stared at Daud and willed with all his mind and body to make the world stop, clenching his marked hand into a fist.

The world stilled, but Daud didn’t. For a moment he gaped in surprise and then grabbed Corvo’s hand, pulling off the glove and clutching at his fingers.

“Another marked one, then? Amusing,” he said with such open distaste and contempt, Corvo felt the toxicity on his very tongue. “The answer is most certainly no.”

Corvo wriggled out of the slowed down grasp of the assassin and gestured.

_ The Outsider must walk freely, and he needs the Knife to return to the Void. Help me free him! He gave you the powers, surely, you don’t want him suffer trapped. _

“I pity you. Stop seeking the devil of the sea out, this is not a matter to be concerned about. The war is coming, and we must be ready.”

_ Cheap words from a man who holds the only solution to the war’s prevention. _

“I doubt you are going to return the Knife to the Pandyssians either if it somehow lands in your hands. At least that much you have already confirmed.”

A pause hung in the air as still as the dust risen from the assassins who awoke from the frozen time. Daud’s gestures stopped them from pinning Corvo down on a sword, leaving them alone again instead. Only the woman remained, who blinked at Corvo from behind a crude black patch over her right eye.

“You never told us your name,” she asked.

_ Corvo. _

“Corvo… The man who was sent to deal with the Pandyssians,” Daud pronounced, and Corvo nodded. “Perhaps, there is indeed something in you that the Outsider has chosen. How long have you had the mark?”

_ Since childhood. _

“And you want to return the Knife to the devil who tainted your existence? Don’t tell me your life was at all easy after he scorched you with his curse.”

_ It wasn’t. But he is not at fault. Superstition, cruelty is. _

Daud hummed in disbelief.

“Did you meet him, then? Out in the open sea, lurking and watching?”

Corvo remained quiet on this matter, and Daud must have made all the conclusions himself.

“You are making too much noise, Corvo. I fear I cannot let you have the Knife or leave my base. Billie, deal with him,” he turned to the woman and gave her an appreciative look.

“He still didn’t tell us what he would do with the Knife. Why does the Outsider need it?”

The woman, Billie, measured him with a curious and surprisingly compassionate gaze, and Corvo caught on that chance like a straw for a sinking man.

_ He wanders, out and alone in the sea. His soul is tied to the Void which has been shut off hundreds of years ago. He needs the Knife to unseal the Void and return there. _

Somehow, the devil’s freedom meant and weighed more than the safety of the whole Empire.

“Useless…” Billie muttered, and turned her head towards Daud, who was calmly hovering over the spread out plans on his desk. “I’ll dispose of him. Get a move on!”

She clenched Corvo’s hands behind his back, and he struggled with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Billie’s hold was incredibly strong as she pushed him down a hall of the half-fallen building. Here and there Corvo saw assassins in whaler masks, looking up to watch their second-in-command lead an intruder to his death. He watched and gritted teeth, wondering if he could use his waning powers to Blink away and out of the assassin’s reach. But as he was the gifted one, so apparently were they.

Billie led him to a room with a chasm, a hole broken through the floor and several storeys down. Her whisper warmed his ear.

“I will let you fall, but you must Blink. Daud keeps the knife in his safe. I will keep him busy, but you must be quick. Go!”

And she pushed him, stunned, down the hole in the floor. He managed to gather his wits fast enough to Blink to the very bottom, hitting the floor on his feet, raising dust in the air around him. For a few minutes he laid back down on the floor, waiting if someone looked down to check on him. But soon after, he climbed into the shadows.

Billie spared him. Not only that, but told him to return to the room where he was threatened, where the Knife apparently was held. Why show compassion, why go against her boss, why betray his secrets?

He wanted to know, but time did not permit him pondering.

The way back up the building took him more time than he would have liked it, but evading the assassins was not at all easy. They possessed the same skill as Corvo did, moving through great distances at ease, and their unawareness of Corvo’s presence made it harder to guess.

Gaps in the walls, broken furniture stacked up together, bookshelves helped him maneuver unnoticed, until he finally made it back to the top. The room where Daud first interrogated him remained empty, no assassins, no Billie, no Daud himself.

If anything ever looked like trapped, this was it.

“I warned you, Corvo,” Daud’s voice rumbled hoarsely from across the room where he appeared from nowhere. Corvo measured him with a cautious gaze. “I won’t let you take the Knife.”

_ Where is Billie? _

He never received an answer as Daud, clenching his fist hard and then waving it, sent a bottle off the desk flying at Corvo’s head. With a dull thud it hit Corvo on the forehead, and while he tried to shake away the dizziness and pain, Daud drew his sharp sword and moved to swing a blow.

Corvo, his reactions sharpened by the feeling of pain and magic that had blended together, swayed away and looked around. No weapon was there for him to take, but he still had power.

As if in a slower motion he felt the need to fight Daud and yet to stay away from bloodshed. It wasn’t what the Outsider had given him the powers for.

Instead, feeling his heart in his throat and beating wildly, Corvo rushed forward at Daud, barely escaping the scrape of his sword, grabbing his fronts and pushing him to the wall in a single rush of a Blink.

Daud’s head hit the wall and a trickle of blood began down his neck. His eyes, unfocused for a second, moved to look at Corvo. The sword clattered to the floor, and the fight was over before it began.

“What you are trying to do is pointless. That monster deserves no pity, and you are a fool to give him so much,” Daud grunted, and Corvo shook him, fingers curled tightly into the lapels of a bright red coat. Daud smiled and then sighed, his eyes so very old and tired all of a sudden. “He is a cursed siren. Luring people into helping him… He lured me too.”

Corvo, stunned a little, let go of Daud, but remained close enough to put up a fight if necessary.

_ What do you mean? _

“When he granted me the powers. He wanted me to help him, too.”

_ And what did you do? _

Daud smiled. “I didn’t.”

_ I know. Not only that, but you abused, twisted the powers he gifted you. Have you never thought that your misery, whatever those regrets you have are, all stem from that? It wasn’t the Outsider, never was. It was you. And now your plan backfired badly, causing a war, causing death and destruction. What do you want the Knife for now, Daud? Your own revenge or retribution? A reminder that it was worth it? It wasn’t. It never was. _

Corvo’s chest heaved as he had to breathe out after such a long line of gesturing. It must have been the longest Corvo uttered, and Daud’s eyes watched him in tired awe. Air clicked like a clock and turned heavier with every minute.

“Take it. Just… take it away.”

_ What? _

“Go. I don’t say you are right. I hope you are making the worst mistake and the Outsider might as well swallow the world when you free him. But at least that sin won’t be on my hands.”

***

The Knife felt so heavy even without being physically present in Corvo’s hand. He could remember the touch of the Void through it and he longed to see what the Outsider would do when the relic falls into his hands.

He emerged from Daud’s base to the sunlit horizon, the sun blinding him a little. The streets were pleasantly quiet, and the waves sang sweetly as he listened. The gates towards freedom were so near, and he somehow knew that coming back to the shore was no longer an option. He was not going to die, but this sunrise was his last to see.

Samuel’s and his hut stood calmly on the shore, and Corvo’s heart clenched with fondness for this little house he called home for so long. And Samuel, a father, nearly.

He found him early risen and smoking the cigar. The view was endearing, something Corvo had always taken for granted and now wanted to remember.

Samuel looked at him, half risen and then sitting back on the bench. He patted the seat beside him, and Corvo settled next to him.

_ You look mournful. _

“I only take after you. I know this is a goodbye, Corvo, and your face tells as much. Is it done then? What you wanted, what the devil wanted?”

Corvo closed his eyes and threw his head back, resting on the wall of the house. The waves caressed his hearing as did the sound of Samuel breathing out the cigar smoke.

_ Yes. _

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the screams of seagulls.

_ I’m sorry to leave you, Samuel. But… _

There was no response. Corvo opened his eyes and found Samuel standing a few meters away, peering towards the horizon.

_ Samuel? _

Just as he got up, he heard a male cry from the other side.

“Don’t move! You are arrested on the grounds of Imperial treachery. You will be escorted to be judged by the Empress,” the man said, his eyes excited with strange cruelty as he pointed at Corvo. The group of the guards led by him charged, and Corvo’s heart missed a beat.

“Corvo, they are coming the Pandyssians!” Samuel cried out, turning around to see his friend in a fight.

Blood splattered beneath his knuckles as he punched one of the guards across his face, barely managing to Blink behind the other to twist his arm. He cried in pain and allowed Corvo to immobilize him, dropping him to the ground. As he turned around, two more guards caught a hold of his arms and doubled him down. Corvo saw Samuel charge at one of the guards with a piece of a metal tube, but the guard caught him in time, punching a blow to Samuel’s stomach. Corvo cried out silently, watching his friend sprawl on the ground 

The guard captain clicked a set of handcuffs on Corvo’s wrists, pulling him up by the front.

“You’ve messed up enough. Where is the Knife?”

Corvo laughed in his face. Not that he was going to tell them where it was, but he couldn’t even try, his hands cuffed securely.

“Men, search the hut. And bring the old man inside, we are not after him, but this criminal,” the captain ordered, and like faithful lackeys, two guards hurried to the hut. Immediately Corvo heard furniture upturned, floor boards creaking and moving, clothing thrown as well as clattery equipment.

Finding nothing, they took Corvo to the square by the shore where people began gathering. Coming out of their homes and businesses, staring at the horizon where white dots slowly emerged from the deep blue of the sea. Corvo looked too, and his heart clenched in yearning for reunion.

The guard whose hand did not leave Corvo’s arm shouted at the other hurrying by.

“What is happening?”

“The shore patrol says it’s Pandyssian ships,” the man shouted, and then his guard companion tugged at his sleeve.

“Hurry, no time for chit-chat,” her voice called for him sternly and he hurried after her away, giving Corvo’s captor a shrug.

“This is all your fault,” he snarled to the side, dragging Corvo further away to where Imperial banners wavered in the air of a put up judge board.

Seated there, up high on the middle seat, was Empress Jessamine. Her bright eyes looked at people, but something in the way she pursed her lips gave away the anxiety of the war.

“Corvo Attano,” she announced, looking at him, thrown to his knees in front of the seat. Little Emily peered down at him from the side seat, her brave eyes dry of tears. “You are accused of treason to the Empire. You have been caught in the act of stealing the Pandyssian Knife of the Outsider, which is considered their holy relic, which has led to war threats and eventually an attack which we are yet to stop. Normally, such treason would be followed by an execution.”

The crowd cheered and booed.

“However, considering the circumstance, we may still have time to broker peace. Return the Knife.”

She stood and leaned on the judge board, and Corvo looked up at her. Curnow’s hands held his wrists tightly, only not as tight, not tight anymore… He felt a nudge, a caress of a finger on his wrist and then his marked hand.

Corvo’s heart missed a beat. Even if it was a test of innocence, he could fail it and escape. With the Knife, with the Outsider, with his own life.

His hands fell free and in an instant he Blinked across the square to the sea.

_ I will not succumb. I am not a tool. _

“Guards, stand down!” the Empress’s voice echoed, drawing attention of the people present. The guards lowered their weapons down, and Corvo felt it safe to pause and turn around, his back to the sea.

With a crush of a wave, he heard the Outsider’s call.

**_Come to me, my weary lover. Come and let me take your burdens in my arms._ **

He longed to turn around, to look if the devil was waiting for him in the waves. But he had the Empress’ eyes trained on him and her gaze locked him in place by magnificence and compassion for her cause.

Even though she betrayed him. Even though he was saved by the same man twice.

Suddenly, something swished through the air, and a great blast exploded to the West of the city. Screams, cries, fire and smoke broke out all at once, opening gates to a panic on a much larger scale. People hurried back to their homes, some ran in different directions. Guards issued orders here and there, and amongst that chaos the smallest scene of emotions had to take place still. Corvo knew that it was now or never, and he turned to run, when Empress’ voice held him back.

“Stop, Corvo! You cannot doom us,” Jessamine cried, rushing forward and being stopped by her guards, their leather-gloved hands tight around her arms. She snarled at them, her eyes spilling tears. The Empress looked very un-empress like at that moment, breaking free from their hold, as Corvo watched. Emily tugged at her side, small hands curled into her mother’s vest, and Jessamine draped an arm around her. Her pleading gaze darted to Corvo. “Please.”

He looked back at her and for a moment the Knife in his hands felt too heavy, too foreign, its emanating power burning his skin.

Someone screamed again, louder, and everyone’s eyes glued to a small dot, engorging as it cut through the air. Before anyone could properly react, the dot turned into quite a sized black sphere that flew past the docks and into the nearest district of the city, creating another vast explosion. Corvo could hear crying and begging and screams of terror, Jessamine’s loud orders to her people as she turned her attention to what no longer could be avoided. He could smell blood and ash, but somehow…

It didn’t matter. None of it. He made a decision.

Step by step he walked backwards, looking Emily in the eye. She bravely stared back, not even drawing her mother’s attention to the fact that their last hope was leaving. Fleeing.

He had never had a proper choice, always enslaved, used, hurt. Now… it was his choice to be selfish. Because it didn’t feel like a fairytale, leaving the Outsider enslaved, allowing the cultists to continue while saving the Empire. He was not that kind of hero, if any hero at all.

He looked at Emily for one last time and then turned and sprinted to the sea, closer and faster, till his feet hit the waves, foam kissing his skin. The sea raged violently, pieces of wood and metal and stone floating from the part of the destroyed whale slaughterhouses. Pipes sticked out of water as Corvo ran past him, he realised that water in his face wasn’t the speckles of the storm or rain - he was crying.

He breathed in, one last final inhale, and plunged into the hazardous wave, hands forward. Darkness met him heavily, burning his lungs as he let water drip into him. He smiled, clearly dying, but not before he saw the Outsider’s face. Gentle hands took his and tugged, dragging him down.

He heard another explosion in the air, and when he looked up, the sea was entirely calm.

The Outsider looked at him again, glowing in the dark. His arms dragged Corvo closer, taking the knife out of his hold and making it dissipate in a billion of Void rocks. The change was so immediate, so engulfing, pulling at Corvo’s insides that he wondered if Death was already claiming him. The bottom of the sea turned pitch black and Corvo felt it pull him in, together with the Outsider. He heard a song, so loud and high pitched and creaking. The whales celebrated their return home. To the Void.

The Outsider’s lips were stretched into a joyful smile, revealing rows of even teeth, sharpened a little on the ends. He pulled Corvo close and ran his clawed fingers through his hair. Corvo relished the physical touch - now he knew for certain life was dripping out of him.

And then… the devil of the sea spoke, his voice scratchy and echoing and beautiful.

“Thank you.”

Corvo gulped, last bubbles of oxygen leaving him, and embraced the deity back. He couldn’t speak still, but he mouthed at the Outsider’s skin,  _ I love you _ .

The Outsider laughed. So humane, he laughed, happy.

“And I you. I love you.”

And when Corvo blinked and opened his eyes again, he saw everything. He saw the city of Dunwall crumble, he saw himself in the arms of a god, he saw his eyes, black as a dream, and he saw everything. And for once he knew, he did not owe anyone anything anymore.

***

_ “I heard another city was destroyed today. And the last of Dunwall too, sunk into waters never to be alive again, never peopled, never ruled from. My home, gone. And for the first time today I realise that in selfish cruel games of politics we often forget cruelty of people also exists. And someday they will want to come and take what’s theirs. _

_ No one will ever know that a man born a pawn turned into a man with the greatest power over all of the Empire. And truly, I cannot blame him for choosing himself over the country. I know we failed him. I failed him too. But I have always stood with the Empire. And with the Empire I will have fallen.” _

Emily looked out of the window thoughtfully, closing the journal and strapping the bind onto it. Of all the documents her mother left her, this journal is certainly the most dangerous knowledge. How little did Emily know, how little did her mother reveal!

Karnaca is burning with sunlight outside the window, and young Empress watches the people scurry, the leaves of exotic trees move in the wind. It is not her home of birth, but now a home of heart. Capital moved to a surviving city post-war, and made a capital of celebration for the peace. And today, the woman who knew more than any other person was given up to the Void.

And with her, hidden under the flaps of an imperial jacket, are burnt and drowned the secrets now only held in Emily’s mind. Perhaps, from the deep sea that man Corvo, who Emily barely remembers, would spring and take it. Those secrets belong to him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And like that, the fic is wrapped up! Thanks so much everyone who has been reading it, who left comments and messages, I truly appreciate it all <3 Thanks bluebeholder for supporting me throughout this fic and for cheering me on.
> 
> I will keep sharing long fics when I can, but for now... Thank you!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)


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